


My Dark Sister

by Anony (yamarazazzy)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anger, Betrayal, Character Death, Compromise, Deific Possession, Disappointment, Dysfunctional Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Forgiveness, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, Love, Reconciliation, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Tears, Threats of Violence, Understanding, respect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2020-12-28 18:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21141227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamarazazzy/pseuds/Anony





	1. Chapter 1

The sun was setting over the Blackwater Bay. The water was calm, the waves lapping softly against the rocky shore as the sun sunk low above the horizon turning the sky a brilliant gold color. King Aegon sighed as he took a sip of wine, looking off from his balcony towards the setting sun as a bird cried out over the glowing waves.

“Still looking West, husband?” a cool voice asked behind him. He doesn’t turn to look at her, but he knows who it is. Few people could enter his rooms unannounced, and of the three, only one would dare his current mood.

“I’m always looking West, wife.” he responds, feeling a cool sea breeze begin blowing as she came to stand beside him. For a few minutes they just stand side by side, staring off towards the water as he nurses his cup of wine. Finally, he breaks the silence and asks, “Why are you here, Visenya?” his older sister-wife leaned against the balcony, her long, gold-silver hair glittering in the setting sun like molten metal. For once she was not clothed in leathers or armor and instead wore a light gown made of deep blue cloth that left large swaths of her pearly shoulders and back exposed. He couldn’t help but stare at her exposed flesh, slightly perplexed and enticed by her uncharacteristic attire.

“I was informed you had stormed out of the Throne Room today and have been brooding here ever since. I came to see if you needed counsel.” her words are even and matter of fact, betraying neither emotion nor motive. He took another sip of the potent wine, feeling it warm his chest as it trickled down his throat.

“Who told you that?” he inquires stonily as he turns towards her, looking into her violet eyes, which remind him more and more of their mother’s as the years fly by.“Was it Orys?” she doesn’t reply, which is all the answer he needs. “He should know better.”

“He was concerned, Aegon.” she chides gently, much softer than she usually would. “You have been in a foul mood for three days and have been consuming more wine than usual. He’s worried about you.” Aegon empties the cup and throws it over the balcony, watching it fall off into the gardens. Visenya raises an eyebrow at him and he can sense the smallest reproach in her face. “With good reason, it appears.” he huffs in annoyance.

“Can’t a man have his moods without the whole kingdom falling into a frenzy?” he mutters sarcastically, wiping the drops of wine from the stone surface of the rail. “I have been short of temper, I know, but there is no need for him to run to you to come and check on me. I will survive until our sister returns with Dorne in hand.” his reply is acceptable enough, but even he can hear the change in tone as he mentions Rhaenys, far away in that desert land that had so vexed them. Visenya watches his face for a moment and he feels as if she’s pulling his secrets straight through his skin.

“It is all right to fear for her.” his older sister finally murmurs, the unusually kind tone of her voice causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. Visenya was not normally the comforter in their relationship and he wondered what Orys had said to alarm her enough to try to take on such a guise. “She is your wife, the mother of your son. It is a testament to your compassion, the sign of a good king. You need not hide your worry behind a facade of irritation.” her praise worms its way into his heart like the wine had, warming his chest like few other words could. He scowls at himself, annoyed that he still craves her approval after all this time.

“I am not a little boy, Visenya. I don’t crave your praise or approval, nor do I need either.” the words come out harsher than he meant them to and he can see her eyes harden. The wind blows a little stronger and her long hair, free from its usual braids, blows around her like a curtain of gold threads. She looks away towards the setting sun and he already feels a stab of guilt for his inconsiderate words.

“And yet you are still as cruel as you were when we were children.” she responds icily, the red sky making her eyes glow with an angry, ethereal light. “Although now you lack the excuse of youth.”

“I’m sorry.” he mutters, moving closer to her. “I lashed out. Forgive me.” she doesn’t respond and he sighs. “Visenya-” he puts a hand on her shoulder and his voice dies as he feels how cold her skin has become. “You’re freezing.” he traces the exposed skin of her shoulder lightly and cold seeps into his fingers.

“Perhaps I am only reflecting the cold that lies within me.” she mutters as he removes his robe and wraps it around her shoulders, which feel to him more like marble than flesh. He wraps the garment closer around her in concern, an action which earns him only a contemptuous smirk. “After all, I am a cold bitch, am I not?” he swallows as she repeats the words he had thrown at her a few nights ago. He can still hear that argument in his mind, hear the High Valyrian echoing from angry tongues. She laughs coldly at him, no doubt sensing his recollection, and shrugs out of his robe. “If I am cruel, it is only because you and our family made me so.” He picks up the robe and wraps it around her again, keeping her in his embrace this time so she won’t shrug out of it once more. She is stiff as wood in his arms and he sighs at her scornful indifference. He’s about to speak when he feels her hand rest above his heart, cold as her shoulders had been and making his skin erupt in chills. “And even when I try, you still are cruel.” she looks up at him, although she is barely half a hand shorter than him, and the look in her eyes cuts into him like a blade. “I know you love her better, but the least you could do is show me some respect. I am your sister after all.” he gently moves a hand to her face, stroking the sharp lines of her jaw and cheek bones.

“Visenya, you know I love you-”

“Perhaps.” she interrupts, pulling out of his embrace. He follows her as she moves out of the darkening night and into his chambers. “But perhaps not.”

“You know I do, don’t be flippant about it.” she shakes her head at him, keeping her face turned away. “But even though I love you, you know well that we are not soulmates, you and I.” she tosses her head at his words, still hiding her face from him. “We are too alike, made of the same hard steel and when we meet the results are as beautiful as they are destructive. We do not bend to fit each other as Rhaenys and I do, instead we clash in burst of sparks and threaten to break each other.” she sighs and sits on his bed, her face turned towards him now, but still half hidden in the shadows of the canopy above. “Perhaps this is because we were rivals before we were lovers.” he slowly approaches her. “Remember?” her eyes flare up at him, almost glowing in the darkness. “Rivals for the title, for our grandfather’s favor, for Blackfyre-”

“I know.” she snaps, cutting him off. “But although we were rivals, we treated each other with respect, but now,” she shakes her head. “Now you reject me at every turn, humiliate me before the world, and throw any kindness I try to share with you back in my face as boiling oil.” he sighs and comes to sit beside her, still feeling the cold emanating from her porcelain skin.

“Perhaps if you were kinder more often, I would trust your kindness, but you have never tried to hide your disdain from me. Not since the Field of Fire, and certainly not since my son’s birth.” he turned to look at her and she stared back at him defiantly.

“Yes, _your son’s birth_ was certainly something I could never forgive. Not from you and certainly not from her. How dare you call _him_ a dragon-”

“Careful,” he interrupts, his voice sharp and dangerous. “Be very careful with your words, Visenya.” she narrows her eyes at him challengingly.

“Or what? You’ll strike me again? Try and I’ll break your hand.” he grits his teeth as their eyes lock in a silent battle. “And you wonder why I don’t even try any more.” she finally tells him. “Be glad it didn’t leave a visible mark.” Aegon closes his eyes and looks away, feeling shame blossom in his heart. He was not proud of what had happened that night, but the sickest part of him did not regret what he had done. She had gone too far, but in punishing her, so had he. “I loved you once.” she murmurs, breaking the heavy silence that hung between them. “And for awhile I thought I could love you until my dying breath. You were the one person in this world who I trusted completely to help me achieve our dream and when we burned this continent into submission and I crowned you, I never loved anyone more.” she lay down beside him as she spoke, her voice sadder than he had ever heard it, causing him to swallow thickly as hot, burning shame pumped its way through his veins.

“I know, sister.” he tells her softly, taking her cold hand in his. “I know and I loved you too. You were the first love I ever felt. You cannot fathom how much I admired you when we were younger. It was you I first told of my dream because I knew you were the one who would give me the strength to chase it.” he squeezes her hand, wishing she'd hold it back as she used to. “And despite your slanders and your disdain, I know I could love you again.” his eyes stare into hers as time seems to slow.

“No, I don’t think you can.” she finally replies from her position on the bed. “Too much lies between us, some of which neither of us shall ever be able to forgive. You will protect Aenys because you love his mother, and you will never forgive me for not accepting him. As for me, well, my list of grievances is far longer than yours and my wounds harder to mend. Nothing good could come from that.” he sighs, and strokes her hand with his thumb, feeling the calluses that mar his own skin reflected in hers.

“For once, sister, I think you may be wrong,” he tells her, laying down beside her, resting his hand on his elbow. “I know I could love you again, no matter what you've done, and I think that if we tried, perhaps we could do better with our love the second time around, especially since it's no longer just for us, but for the realm. Aenys needs a brother, our dynasty needs more heirs, and it'd be best if those came from love, not just from duty.” she glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, suspicion and anger intertwined dancing in those violet depths.

“So, you shall love me for my womb, not for me.” she curses and he shakes his head adamantly.

“No, and it hurts that you'd even accuse me of such callousness," he cuts back, for once allowing his hurt to show plainly on his face, "but we have always loved each other best when we shared a common goal, or am I misremembering how hot our passion burned before and during our conquest?" Her eyes flashed at him in the dark, her fingers briefly closing around his as their eyes briefly meet. 

"No, you're not, but we were also different people then." she counters, her voice still cold, if not as harsh. 

"That much I will concede," he replies carefully, taking heart in the slight pressure coming from her fingers now, "but I think a child might help us be allies once more, give us a common cause to fight for." Aegon sees her arch an eyebrow at his words, and he knows she can hear the calculations underlying his words and see the lines of reasoning he was paining through the air. He just wished he didn't sound so damn manipulative and that words weren't flowing so unnaturally off his tongue. "Don't you miss when we were on the same side? When we fought this world together?"

“Even if I did, it is not that easy to forget wrongs, Aegon, the chasm between us is wide and deep.” she replies as he runs a hand up her arm, no longer as cold as before. “Perhaps impassable, even if we can have a child.”

“For most.” he tells her as he runs a hand along her collarbone, something she doesn't stop him from doing, even though he knows she easily could. “But we are more than just husband and wife, we are tied together by blood already, the blood that escaped the Doom and puts us above the judgement of gods and men on the backs of our dragons, and by our dream, our dream of a new empire.” he gently stroked her neck, waiting with slightly bated breath as her eyes searched his face. “I know we have wronged each other, Senya," he murmurs, using her nickname for the first time in months, "but I am willing to try.” Her hand briefly stills his own as it moved to cup her face and he felt a spark run up his arm from where their hands met. “The dragon must have three heads, if two rip each other apart than the beast will fall.” she sighed, the hand covering his tightening its grip as she held his gaze.

“You've become so well-spoke, brother," Visenya whispers, her nails digging into his skin slightly, "and you have structured your argument well, so I will agree, but only on one condition.” He raises an eyebrow at her and suddenly he’s pushed back onto the bed as she straddles his hips. He gasps at the unexpected impact and his eyes go wide as she leans her face close to his, her lips ghosting against his skin as she hovers beside his ear. “I will forget about Rhaenys’ act of desperation, I will agree to try and reconcile our marriage, and I will bear you a true son, but I want Dragonstone.” He furrowed his brow in confusion as she pulled back to stare into his eyes.

“Dragonstone?” he asked as his hand played with the collar of her gown.

“Yes, Dragonstone. I want it to be mine, my seat for whenever I please, and a place for our son when he is born." She tells him, voice strong and resolute despite its slight breathiness, "You may be king, but I shall be Lady of Dragonstone, as was my destiny, as is my right.” He stares up at her as she runs a hand up his chest, and in her eyes he sees flames brighter than the sun that he can tell will not be doused with anything less than what she has asked for. “Do we have a deal, brother?”

“Fine.” he tells her, grunting as she rolls her hips against him. “Dragonstone is yours.” she smiled, a beautiful, dark thing that set his heart ablaze as he ran a hand along her body, feeling the firm muscles stretching beneath her skin. “You are lady of Dragonstone at long last." She smirks at his words and before he can blink, captures his lips with hers in a scalding kiss, their lips and teeth clashing in a fierce battle of passion and desire. 

"I've missed you." Visenya whispers against his lips as they break apart, breathing hard and almost desperate with arousal.

"And I’ve missed you,” Aegon murmurs softly as he runs a hand up her thigh, "my dark sister." He barely gets to enjoy her smile as they rush together again, their bodies clashing like the steel of their blades and burning like the fire of their dragons, and like the warriors they are, they battle until early morning when their lust is spent. As light creeps in through the window, she gently kisses up his chest, placing her lips on every new bruise she had given him during their hours of passion until he gently kisses her bruised lips as she reaches his face.

“Say it again, husband.” she whispers against his lips as she pecks his jaw with kisses.

“Visenya,” he whispers as she bites his ear.

“Say it.” she tells him, her lips ghosting against his skin.

“My Queen. My lady,” he gasps as her hand runs down his chest. “My Dark Sister.”


	2. Chapter 2

The eight year old boy watched his sister as she stood on the rocky shore, ankle deep in the cold surf. Her silver-gold hair was braided in a crown around her head and she barely flinched as a gust of wind sent their attendants’ skirts flying. Her violet eyes were fixed on the western horizon, staring at the spot where the sun meets the sea with the same intensity she watched their arms master as he taught them a new parry or attack.

“Why are you looking West, Senya?” He asked her, scanning the darkening horizon for whatever was holding his sister’s attention.

“I’m not sure.” She answered simply, her gaze remaining fixed ahead. “But a storm is brewing there.”

“A storm like no other, according to our cousins on Driftmark.” He replied, causing her brow furrowed at his words. “They say the continent west of us is a strange place, filled with broken kingdoms and warring kings.”

“A place vulnerable to such a strong storm.” She murmured, almost as if in a trance. “Somewhere unprepared for a single, potent strike.”

“Are we still talking about a storm?” He asked her, carefully eyeing her face.

"I don't think so." She whispered in reply. "What would you give, Egg, for an empire like Valryia?" He furrowed his brow at her, confused at her words.

"I-" His answer died as she turned to face him. There was something about it that was unnerving and when her eyes met his he nearly screamed, jumping away from her in fear.

“Aegon?” she asked and when he blinked it was gone, her face and her eyes were her own, pretty, young, and violet. “Aegon, what is it?”

“Nothing,” He told her, regaining his composure. “I don't know what I'd do for such an empire, or whether I would even want one. Let’s head in.” He turned and walked away from her, passing their gaggle of attendants who began picking themselves up to follow him. As he climbed back towards Dragonstone he shivered as he recalled what he thought he had just seen. Had her eyes really-

No, it was impossible. It must have just been a trick of the light.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The eighteen year old man shivered in the cold night air, staring East towards the warring free cities. His breath misted lightly in the air and he hugged his cloak closer to him to keep out the chill.

“Rhaenys said you were down here,” a voice said, startling him enough that he reaches for Blackfyre at his side. “Come here to brood, brother?” He sighed in relief when he turned around to behold the lithe form of his older sister. He released the sword at his side as she slowly approached him and lowered herself to the ground beside him, apparently unbothered by the cold. Her long silver hair was braided down her back in an even plait and her eyes almost seemed to glow in the light of the moon above them. He opened his cloak, gesturing for her to lean against him so he could protect her from the cool night air. He hugged her close as he enveloped her in his cloak, sighing as her warmth softened his cold skin.

“I came here to think, wife.” He answered, returning his gaze to the East. “Not to brood.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and he smelt the incense in her hair.

“With you there is very little difference.” She replied easily. “I assume it is about Pentos and Tyrosh’s appeal for aid that has brought you here this night?” He nodded at her words, straining his eyes to see the faint lights of Essos, although he knew such a feat was impossible. “Are you struggling with whether you should grant it?”

“I wonder if it is our role to be involved in such a dispute.” He explained softly. “They have been warring for a century now and will probably war on for another. Involving our house in their conflict may not end well for us should Volantis prove victorious.” She hummed thoughtfully for a moment at his words and he felt strangely comforted by the vibrations against his chest.

“You could ensure that does not happen and end Volantis for good.” She finally murmured, looking up at him with her violet eyes. “As for our role, we are the last of the Dragonlords and the Free Cities are Valyria’s daughters. Perhaps this is our role, to end their long Century of Blood.” He brushed a stray piece of hair out of her face as she briefly paused, something strange crossing her face as if she was suddenly possessed with some thought. “And it will be interesting to see how a dragon can be used in warfare.” A smirk played at the edges of his lips.

“You think we should use this as a test of sorts?” He asked, causing her to smile back ferociously in a way that reminded him that his sister was perhaps more warrior than women. 

"Of sorts. After all, it would be good to see how Balerion fares in this small conflict.” She told him, her eyes flashing in the night, arousing a familiar fear that caused him to stiffen against her as she moved her face up to his. “After all, husband, Westeros is much bigger than Volantis and we've already agreed our goal is worth any price, why not begin by giving Volantis to the gods on a wave of dragon fire?” Her lips met his in a warm kiss, but as her hand ran up his chest it took all his will to fight the urge to retreat back to Dragonstone. This time there was no mistake in what he had seen. For a second, just the barest of moments, her eyes had been red.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You should rest.” The twenty seven year old Dragon Lord told his wife as she stood in a white shift, calf deep in the sea, looking off towards the horizon like she had when she was nine years old. “We have a long few years in front of us."

“I know.” She replied softly, her plait-free hair floating around her in the wind. “But there is something here, something I need to _see_.” Her voice was eerily calm as as the sky turned purple above them and Aegon sensed a strange shift in the air, as if someone, or something, was watching them.

“You won’t be able to see anything soon, not with the sun setting.” He said, remaining on the shore out of the reach of the waves, and of his wife.

“You know that’s not the type of _sight_ I was referring to.” She responded without glancing back at him and he swallowed nervously. For a few moments they stood in silence, the sky turning from purple to black above them. “I know where we shall land tomorrow.”

“We already decided-”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice heavy with something he can’t quite name, “no.” He pursed his lips, stiff as a board in the heavy silence as she cocked her head, as if someone was whispering in her ear. “There is a place at the mouth of the Blackwater Rush surrounded by three hills. On the tallest we shall build our fort and it is there you shall be crowned and from there our empire shall be forged.” She turned back to look at him and although he was prepared for what he would see, he still flinched when he met her eyes. “That is where the reign of fire and blood shall begin." He nodded at her words, too torn between dread and anticipation to ask why or how she knew this, and offered her a hand as she returned to him from the sea. Her skin was feverishly hot against his as they return to Dragonstone and right before the threshold he stopped, halting their advance.

"Senya, do you think this," He swallowed nervously, "this Conquest is worth what it will cost us?" She cocked her head at him as she appraised him for a moment, her gaze burning into his skin like fire.

"You want an empire, Aegon." She told him after a minute, "and empires are built on sacrifice. The price is mine and I will pay it. You don't doubt me, do you?" He shook his head and kissed her knuckles lightly.

"Of course not." He assured her, swallowing his remaining doubts as they entered Dragonstone. Once within these familiar walls he realized his fingers were clenched from fear and that his nails had left crescent shaped gashes in the palm of his hand. His sister glanced at his white knuckles and the red blood coating her own pale skin from where he had touched her with a sad look, but she said nothing as she departed from him with a light kiss. Her eyes were her own now, beautiful and violet, but he shuddered as he remembered what her eyes had just been: red as fire, with slitted pupils the color of night.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thirty one year old king stood on his balcony, angry eyes turned south towards Dorne. The letter clutched in his hand rustled in the wind, revealing its lines of hasty script and the angry, scarlet blotches of his own blood. His sister sat beside him, leaning against the cold stone of the balustrade, her fair head hidden in her arms.

“Why didn’t you see this?” Aegon asked her softly, although his tone is as sharp as the blade of a sword and dripping with an ocean’s worth of grief. "Was it not our deal that you would be able to _see_?"

“I did, but when I told you, when I told her, you both refused to accept my words.”She answered back bitterly. “Because neither you, nor Rhaenys, nor even Orys, trusted me when I told you I had seen a dragon falling from the sky.”

“How could I believe what you said?” He accused her angrily, turning his enraged and grief stricken purple gaze upon her. “After everything that has happened-”

“I told you a dragon would die in Dorne!” She yelled back, looking up at him with a ferocious, grief-fueled anger. Tear tracks marred her fair skin and her eyes were rimmed with red and bruised signs of sorrow. “What else could that possibly have meant?! She was doomed from the moment you two decided to start this damned Dornish War!” Anger as hot as dragonfire burst into flame in his chest.

“You should have gone yourself then if you were so sure!” He cried before he could stop himself and silence reigned for a tense moment as both of their eyes eyes went wide. “You should have gone, not her!” Visenya's eyes narrowed at his words, then seemed to blaze, but instead of exploding, she put her face in her hands for a moment and her entire body seemed to deflate.

“Do you really wish that?” She asked, her voice almost inaudible. “Do you really wish I had died and not her?” Aegon looked down at her and part of him wanted to say yes, because he knew what she was and because he could not love her as he wished because of what she had given herself to. Her body shook with silent sobs at his silence, which was answer enough for both of them, and a wave of guilt doused his anger.

“Not you.” he finally muttered, kneeling down to wrap his arms around her. “But I wish _it_ was dead, I wish we had never made that deal and I want Rhaenys back more than I ever wanted this empire." She sobbed into his chest and he felt his heart break, for her, for him, for them. “I shouldn’t have-" He stopped himself, pulling her to him tighter as tears filled his own indigo eyes, "I’m sorry." He wasn't sure whether he's apologizing for his cruel words, or if he was begging her forgiveness for any part he may have played in her decision to trade herself to the gods for their kingdom. "It’s not your fault. Senya, please, forgive me, I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.” She didn’t respond as she clutched him tighter and although he kissed her forehead and held her close, he was scared to look down at her. Scared he’d see the red eyes of a dragon glowering from his sister’s grieving face.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The thirty nine year old man stared down at the baby in his arms with a mixture of awe, joy, and trepidation. After all this time and all their loss, they finally had a son, and as Maegor slumbered peacefully in his embrace, he couldn't but smile at this healthy miracle of a child.

“He’s perfect.” Aegon murmured softly as he turned to face his wife, wondering how two such miracles could exist, especially since Visenya looked so fair as she reposed in her bed with her fair- hair braided and violet eyes glowing with health despite the dangers she had faced during her labour.

“He should be, he was not an easy burden to bear.” She replied in slight jest, gesturing for Aegon to return her baby to her. He gently placed the sleeping infant in her arms, stroking his small, perfect head with his thumb. 

“Do you think this is a sign that it’s all over now?” He asked her quietly, keeping his gaze on their son, their perfect little prince. “The Conquest, I mean."

“I don’t know.” She whispered softly, running a gentle finger along Maegor’s plump cheek. “Even if it is, I don’t think anything will change for us.” He sighed at this, taking her hand gently in his, his joy at this moment overcoming the trepidation that always pulsed under their touches. “After all, you abhor it and it is me-”

“It is not you.” He interrupted, sharper and harsher than he meant to. They both glance at the baby in her arms in concern, but the little prince continued to slumber on peacefully, unaware of the world around him and the danger pulsing in the room he lay in. “It could never have created something as perfect as our son. It is not you.” She smiled sadly at his words, shaking her head as sunlight streamed through her window and bathed them all in golden light.

“But it is.” She told him gently, “more and more every day. Soon, there may be no difference at all, or at least no difference worth mentioning." Her words hung in the air and they sat in silence for a minute, both staring at their child, their long awaited miracle. 

"I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Senya.” He finally whispered, resting a hand on Maegor's downy head as the baby smiled in his sleep.

“Then don’t.” She answered simply, smiling prettily at her son, the only son they would have, it would seem. “Fly back to court, we will be all right here. Maegor will be well cared for until he is ready to be squired and raised in King's landing, and without me there, _it_ will be unable to influence you any more through my face or be a risk to Aenys. You will be free.”

“But-” He began, desperate to say he didn't want that at all, but his words died as she took his calloused hand in her own. Their eyes met as she kissed his knuckles lightly and he knew that it would be unfair to her and himself to dabble in self deception any longer.

“You know this is the only way.” She continued steadily, “This is the price for our victory. The gods granted our desire and now we must fulfill our end of the bargain." She squeezed his hand as their eyes met, "I know how you feel about it and that you suspect it of ill-intent towards your heir, and I know you think that what it's doing to me is tantamount to murder and you will be unable to stomach seeing my face knowing I'm no longer truly the woman you love. So go and do not look back, not even once, and when Maegor comes to you, love him for me.” He swallowed thickly at her words, hating how his throat tightened and eyes burned as he looked at her facing, trying his best to burn her image into his memory. "I'll be all right, Aegon," she assured him, although they both knew it was a lie, "and one day we will meet again, this is not goodbye forever." He nodded silently as he swallowed his sorrow, and gently brought her lips to his in farewell.

“I love you.” he told her earnestly. "this doesn't change that." 

“I know.” she answered. “And the part of me that is still me loves you too.” He met her violet eyes for a final time before gently kissing Maegor’s fair head, hating that he wouldn't have the pleasure of seeing his child grow. 

“Farewell, wife.” He told her as he turned towards the door, nails digging into his palms in an attempt to distract himself from the pain ripping its way through his chest.

“Farewell, husband. May we meet again.” Visenya replied, her voice solemn and heart wrenching to his ears. Yet, he forced himself to walk away, although every step he took away from them broke his heart. He opened the door and for a moment, just a moment, he thought of looking back, thought of waving a final time, but he knew what he’d see if he did. So instead he forced himself through the threshold, although tears run from his eyes like rivers. This way he’ll remember them as they were, with eyes of violet, with eyes of men, not with the glowing eyes of those beasts his ancestors had mistaken for gods.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aegon was dead, that much he knew. Yet still, somehow, he was somewhere, rather than nowhere. He looked down at himself as he found himself standing on a dark-sanded beach. He couldn’t be older than eighteen, his hands were missing the scars he had earned during the Conquest and his body was light and free of the pains age had piled upon him. A laugh caught his attention and he found there was a woman standing in the surf, her hair is free of braids and flowing in the wind like a curtain of gold and silver.

“Took you long enough, Aegon.” She told him happily and without thinking he rushed towards her through the water, hugging her tightly as the waves broke against their legs.

“Visenya.” He whispered, burying his head in the crook of her neck, exalting in the smell of her hair and skin. “It’s been so many years.”

“I know.” She replied softly, holding onto him with all her might. “How is my son?

"He is well.” Aegon managed to choke out, hands gripping her shoulders like he was scared she'd disappear. "He has grown into a strong and brave man, a man you'd be proud of." 

"Good." Visenya answered, voice wavering as she met his teary indigo eyes, "Aegon, I'm so sorry-" He covered her lips with his, cutting off her apology. 

"You don't need to apologize to me." He murmured against her lips as they parted, resting his forehead against hers as he met her eyes, violet, beautiful, with no trace of red, "I know why you gave yourself to the gods. It's as much my fault as yours." She nodded against him as a tear escaped her eye. "I am content as long as you are just you now." She smiled at this and cupped his face with her hands.

“Yes, it's just me.” 


	3. Chapter 3

A scream echoes throughout the Aegonfort. It's not a scream of terror, or a scream of joy, but something much darker, much more pained. It echoes throughout the halls, stopping lords, guards, and servants alike in their tracks, each suddenly overcome by the grief and agony ringing within the cry. At first the fort holds its breath, waiting for the scream to abate, but it doesn’t. It wavers in pitch, sometimes so low that the court can scarcely hear it, sometimes so high it causes those close to the source to flee with ringing ears, but still it continues. At first, no one is sure what it is that is screaming. Is it one of the dragons roosting nearby? Is it one of the hounds gone mad? Soon enough though, they all realize what it is that is screaming and the source is only confirmed when Orys Baratheon, face pale and eyes red, storms from the king's rooms.

“Find the queen.” The Hand of the King tells a page urgently, voice cracking and stripped, from what the boy does not know, but his hesitation is met with a fierce snarl, “Quickly, boy, or I’ll have you whipped!” The page doesn’t wait another second and runs for the Queen.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

The page is scared, more scared than he had ever been in his twelve years of life. The scream seems to follow him as he sprints through the halls, seems to dog at his heels and chase him through the dimly lit corridors of the Aegonfort, as if it had a life and will of its own. It is such an unnatural sound that it shakes him to the very bone. The cry seems, at least to the young page, to be ripped from the darkest reaches of despair and torn from the mouth of a creature dying. It is a sound so potent and raw he wonders if it's meant for the ears of men. Yet, although some had whispered that it was no doubt some wild animal, the page knows better. No, it is no wild animal that is crying for the whole court to hear, but a man, well, perhaps more than a man. This knowledge does little to console him and only causes him to push his body to run even faster. After what feels like an eternity, he finally reaches the Queen’s rooms and he throws himself against the door, beating its wooden surface as hard as he can, frantically hoping that her ladyship had not decided to take an evening flight as was her wont. It seems luck is on his side, for the door opens swiftly and there stands the queen. Her violet eyes flash as she looks down at him, but strangely, her eyes lack their usual ferocity, and are instead much like shattered glass, beautiful to behold, but oh so very sad to gaze upon.

“Lord Baratheon said-” the page manages to gasp before the cry rose once more, flying to a pitch that was almost maddening to hear. “It’s-”

“I know.” She tells him softly, her beautiful face as cold and unmoving as marble and her voice dripping with something he can’t quite place. “Have the Hand order all courtiers to their chambers and keep the halls clear. I shall handle this.” She then strides around him and drifts down the hall. The page doesn’t wait another second and rushes back to Lord Baratheon, clutching his head as the cry continues unabated.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aegon isn't able to stop screaming. Scream after scream rip themselves from his throat with no way of stopping them since that burned and grimy letter had arrived from Dorne. It is offensively short for the message it bears, only three short lines of script, but the length of the message mattered not, Rhaenys was dead either way. His sweet, beautiful, wife, his beloved sister, the mother of his only son, was dead, and nothing in the world would ever fill the hole she had left in his chest as half his soul was ripped from him. At first he had just stood, reading and rereading the offending message, over and over, shaking with anger, grief, rage, and sorrow, and without even thinking a scream had erupted from his lips. At first he had meant to scream, had meant to shout his grief to the world and curse it for taking his beloved from him, but now the screaming seems to have taken on a life of its own and with every beat of his broken heart, his cry grows stronger. Perhaps that is all he is now, a screaming, pain-ridden creature, who can do nothing more than howl its pain to the darkness. No, not pain, pain is not a strong enough word to describe the emotions ripping through Aegon’s chest. Such a small word could not even begin to scratch the surface of the absolute agony pumping its way through his veins, burning its way through his very soul, or at least, what was left of it. The floor of his chambers is cold and hard beneath his knees, and the low light makes the hunched form of the Great Conqueror look more beast than man, but it matters not. Nothing really matters anymore, nothing except his grief. And the scream. The scream matters. After all, he is the scream and the scream is all that is left of him now. Everything else good in him is now with Rhaenys, wherever she may be. He weaves his fingers through his hair and pulls with all his might as he cries out, riding the wave of...something horrible. Heartbreak, loss, devastation, despair, anger, rage, grief, guilt...something so horrible he wishes he can just die. Die and be with her. Die and leave this all behind. Die and-

Suddenly he feels two hands on his shoulder and the warmth of a body hovering before him. He would have laughed at his sorry state if he could. How easy it would be to kill him now, when he can’t even hear when someone enters his rooms and can't be bothered to care about whether they were there to do him harm. He hopes they just go away, whoever has invaded his solitude, but they don't. So, as his throat continues to cry out, he looks out from between his knees and his weeping eyes meet the violent ones of his sister, his wife, his remaining queen. She gently covers his clenched fists with her slightly smaller hands and gently massages them into opening, forcing them to release his gold-silver locks.

“Aegon,” she whispers, in a voice so heavy with sorrow it breaks his heart anew. “Aegon, please, stop.” She cups his teary face with her hands, eyes looking into his imploringly, but he can't stop screaming, not even for her. No matter how hard he tries to constrict his throat and stop his cries, his grief won't abate. The scream is all he knows now and he wonders if he will ever live without it. Tears form in his older sister-wife’s eyes as she stares down at him and he wonders what's hurting her more, his state or their sister's death. “I know you are heartbroken, I know you are hurting, but you cannot give into your grief like this.” She admonishes or begs, a silver tear escaping her eye and trickling down her face slowly. He follows it with his eyes, but still he can't stop. “Please stop.” she whispers. “I can’t lose you too.” He grips her wrists in his hands to tell her he can still hear her, that he is still here, but even though he's still with her, he is powerless to stop the sorrow possessing him, powerless-

Then her lips are on his and his scream dies in his throat. Her lips are soft, tender, and gentle, reminding him of a time before this dark night, and as he slowly kisses her back, his hands coming to rest against her face, he realizes her cheeks are wet with tears. When she finally pulls away and he can breath once more the silence is deafening. The scream is gone, but so, in truth, is he. He is now but a wisp, the scream had been something, but now he is nothing, he is gone, gone like his heart, gone like his Rhaenys.

“Senya,” He whispers, in a voice so raw it sounds like rocks sliding now the slope of the Dragonmount. “She’s gone.”

“I know.” She whispers back. “I know.”

“I think I’m gone too.” He confesses weakly, feeling hot tears escape the corners of his eyes. "I think she took me with her." Visenya grips his face tightly in her hands as his words drip around them, the fire burning in her eyes, which are as broken as his own, fighting against the cold and wet sorrow wrapping its tendrils around the two conquerors.

“No, you are not.” She tells him fervently. “You are still here, you are still with me amongst the living.” She takes his hands from where they've fallen to the floor and places them in her own as she speaks, her voice growing in intensity as she stares into his tear-filled eyes, “And together we will avenge her.” He shrinks under her gaze as tears spill from his eyes, unable to truly believe her words.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough without her-”

“Then I will be strong enough for the both of us.” She tells him firmly, although her body is already shuddering from the weight of her own sorrow. Without thinking he throws himself into her embrace, burying his face in the crook of her neck as they both fall backwards onto his floor. He sobs quietly now, his voice having been exhausted from the screaming, and his sobs are silent, the emotion now too overpowering to be fully vocalized. He clings to her in his grief and she holds him tightly, burying her own tears in his fair hair.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Visenya watches the sun rise from her place on the floor. Aegon now sleeps softly, tears leaking from beneath his fluttering eyelids as he rests in the world beyond this one. She strokes his hair softly as he whimpers in his sleep, comforting her little brother has he wrestles with his grief. How lucky he is to be able to break down like he had. What she wouldn’t give to be able to scream her sorrow to the heavens, but no, that was not her way. She must always be the stoic one, the cold one, the head to Rhaenys heart and Aegon’s muscle, the pillar in the storm. Her own grief leaks out silently, in steady rivers of tears from her once bright eyes and the smallest shuddering breath that shakes the chest her brother now rests upon. Her brother-husband holds her tighter as the red sun rises in the east and as the first weak light shines upon the two remaining Targaryens, a sob finally works its way past Visenya’s trembling lips. It is short and low, nothing like the animalistic howls her brother had released the night before, but they are sobs nonetheless, and once they start, they just kept coming. Part of her hopes they never stop, but she doesn't have that luxury. Once the sun is in the sky, she’ll have to hide her tears and bury her sorrow, for there are plans to be made, people to be comforted, and a certain desert kingdom to burn until it was red and black with fire and blood.


	4. Chapter 4

Aline pushed open the door tentatively, her blue eyes peering into the dim royal chambers. At first it was too dark for her to see anything, but slowly her eyes adjusted and focused on the figure sitting in front of the desk. Her eyes traced his broad shoulders almost hungrily and she couldn't help but smile as she entered, softly closing the large doors behind her. She held her breath and tiptoed her way towards the figure, excitement pulsing through her veins. Her lover’s gold-silver hair glittered in the dim firelight and her heart fluttered as she reached her prize.

“My king.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around the figure’s broad shoulders. “How are-” Her heart stopped as the great cloak crumpled underneath her arms, folding in on itself until it rested upon the slender shoulders of a distinctly feminine figure. Aline withdrew her embrace as the figure turned, revealing not the strong, chiseled face of her king, but the sharp, austere beauty of her queen.

“Hello Aline.” Queen Visenya said softly, a smirk playing upon her full lips as she stood to face her husband’s mistress. She discarded the heavy cloak from around her shoulders easily, revealing a slender body made of pure muscle, garbed in light armor which shone mutely in the dark. Aline backed away in fear as her lover’s wife stared at her with those unnerving violet eyes. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“My queen.” Aline intoned, bowing low. “I thought-”

“You thought I was my husband? Yes, that was_ rather the point_.” Queen Visenya Targaryen replied as she gently unpinned her long hair, allowing it to fall down her back in a wave of molten white gold, destroying the last remnants of the masculine silhouette Aline had mistaken for King Aegon. “I’ve always been able to pull off that trick, especially if my victim’s eyes are untrained.” She approached Aline slowly, like a predator stalking its prey, and Aline couldn’t help the shiver of fear than ran up her spine as she gazed at the older woman. Queen Visenya was late in her third decade now, but she was no less stunning than she had been during the Conquest which had won her husband this kingdom, and although she was shorter than the king, it was not by much, and she still towered over Aline. In fact, Aline had always feared her more than the king himself and the look in the other woman’s eyes sent waves of terror cascading through her veins.

“Where is-”

“My husband? Asleep in my chambers _where he belongs_.” The Queen replied indifferently. “Which is for the best. It would be most _inconvenient_ if Aegon were to interrupt us.” She cocked her head at Aline as she spoke, eyes roaming the shaking woman’s form.

“What do you want?” Aline asked, shifting uncomfortably under the Queen’s contemptuous gaze.

“Nothing much,” the Queen answered, circling around Aline like she was some animal for sale in a market. “I just wanted to see the woman who many whisper will be my husband’s third wife up close and personal.” Aline’s heart hammered in her chest as the Queen spoke. No one was supposed to know of this, no one save herself, her father, and of course the king.

“How do you-”

“Know? My husband told me, but even if he hadn't, I have ears everywhere, my dear. Do you really think a matter of such importance could be spoken of in this castle, nay, in this city, without me knowing it?” Queen Visenya replied, her voice was as cold as ice and her every word seemed to mock Aline, tearing her down from the pedestal the King had placed her on. 

“I understand if you’re hurt by the idea, my lady, but-”

“You understand nothing!” the Queen interrupted, suddenly closing the distance between them. Those famous violet eyes flickered with anger and Aline swallowed nervously, forcing her shaking hands to clasp behind her back and her voice to remain level.

“No, I think I do. You had to share him all your life and now you will have to share him again.” Aline told the angry woman, doing her best to keep her voice calm and soothing, trying her hardest not to further rouse the Queen’s anger. “Any woman could understand why you’re so angry, why you’d hate the woman he seeks to raise to your level, why you’d hate to share his love-” Aline’s words were cut off by a laugh, a laugh so cold, so spiteful, that it chilled Aline to the bone.

“You think I’m angry because he’s fucking you? Because my husband seeks to take a third wife? Oh child, you truly know nothing.” The Queen condescended as she laughed again, shaking her head at Aline like she was some simpleton. “Aline, if it was that, do you think I would have allowed your little tryst to even begin?"

"I'm not sure you would have had a say-"

"Oh child," The Queen interrupted, still standing much too close for Aline's comfort, "Of course I had a say. Aegon is my husband as well as my younger brother, and although he can be as foolish as a boar in heat, he has never touched any woman without me or my sister's blessing. So no, I'm not angry because he's had his fun with you, he can do with his cock as he wishes and I appreciate his attentions having some diversion."

"I am no just some "fun", your majesty," Aline cut back, trying her best not to sound afraid as she pushed back against the Queen's words, "the King wants to marry me because he loves me and as unpalatable as that may be to you-"

"There really is no end to your stupidity, is there?" The Queen interrupted once more, her face unimpressed and contemptuous, "I don’t expect you to be able to understand since you are not a dragon, but "sharing love", as you put it, is not in any way shocking or unpalatable to me, it is as natural to me as monogamy is to you. No, silly girl, I am not angry because he loves you, mostly because he does not and will not, I am angry because you and your father seem to believe you are in some way equal to my beloved sister.” Aline’s eyes went wide as Queen Visenya approached her, looming like a thunderhead, as dangerous as the dragon she rode, “How dare you even imply that!” Her voice rose as she said this, shaking with grief and rage Aline could only begin to comprehend.

“He loves me as he did her-”

“**NO**!” Queen Visenya yelled, her voice echoing around the king's chambers. “No, he does not and he cannot. How dare you, you puny little thing, think you are worthy of the love Aegon bore for Rhaenys!" The Queen’s eyes glowed with rage and Aline felt her back hit the wall as the Queen stalked closer and closer. “My wife was the personification of all that is good, she was kind, intelligent, caring, fearless, and, above all, a Targaryen. You cannot even come close to her, you are not even worthy to possess a shred of the love my husband and I bore fore her.” The Queen placed her hands on either side of Aline’s face, leaning close enough Aline feared she might rip her throat out with her teeth. “And it is time I put an end to you and your family's ridiculous fantasy.” Quick as a whip the Queen was holding a dagger to Aline’s throat and the shaking girl could feel the cold steel biting into the soft, supple flesh of her neck. “I’m afraid, my dear, you’re about to be yet another lost girl.” Panic filled Aline’s chest, her heart beat wildly within her, and hot tears flowed from her eyes as she realized what the Queen was going to do.

“You can’t do this!” Aline cried desperately, feeling blood begin trickling from where the Queen’s knife was biting into her neck.“He won’t allow it!”

“My husband, you mean?” The Queen asked coldly. “I’m afraid he has no say in the matter. He may mourn you, but likely he will not. You will be lost, like so many others, your name eaten by time and forgotten by history. You will be nothing, as you are right now. It's a pity your family will also have to go, but I can’t have such vipers in my court, I have enough to deal with South of us.” Even greater panic filled Aline’s chest as she slowly processed what the Queen had just said. _Her whole family?_ Queen Visenya was going to wipe her whole family away? Large, scared eyes flashed before her, her little sister’s, her younger brother’s, her mother’s-

“What if we leave?” Aline suddenly asked, desperate to avoid the flick of the Queen’s wrist which would end her life and to save her innocent family from this witch’s wrath. “What if we leave and never return?” The Queen cocked her head, gesturing for her to continue speaking. “What if we go as far away as Essos and the free cities?”

“Interesting.” The Queen replied, eyes gleaming in the dying firelight. “I suppose that would save me the mess of having to clean up your bloodstains.” For a moment the Queen didn’t move and Aline held her breath, feeling the blood continue to trickle and her tears continue to snake down her face. Finally, after a few seconds that lasted an eternity, the Queen sheathed her dagger, leaving Aline heaving against the wall. “There is a ship leaving for Essos tonight, I suggest your family be on it, lest my Kingsguard storm in at dawn and you find yourselves executed for treason.” Aline nodded, barely able to comprehend all that had happened, before scurrying away as tears flowed down her cheeks, wiping away the blood that stained the collar of her gown.

\----------------------------------

Visenya watched the girl retreat, shaking her head as the meek little thing ran away without a second glance. She hummed to herself as she cleans the blood from her hands in a bowl of water before removing the remaining scarlet streaks from her porcelain skin with a cloth, which she then throws into the fire. _The girl really had been disappointing_, not in looks, she was pretty enough with those blue eyes, ample curves, and light blond hair, but in temperament she had been sorely lacking. She had been so easy to trick, so easy to intimidate, so easy to cow, it had almost made Visenya give up the whole enterprise, _almost_. In the name of the gods, the girl hadn’t even the wits to figure out that Visenya had never planned to kill her! Honestly, was the girl really so dense as to think the Queen of Westeros would kill her like that? Truly, that spoke volumes of the girl’s ignorance. Throat slitting was _much too bloody_ a way to get rid of inconveniences to be practical for a figure as high profile as herself, and she probably would never have gotten the bloodstains out of Aegon’s rugs. No, if she was going to eliminate Aline and her petty family, she would have simply poisoned them, physically or magically, blamed it on a plague and left it at that, but she hadn’t had it in her. It was not Aline’s fault her father had pushed her into Aegon’s wanton arms and it was not Aline’s siblings’ fault their sister was in love with the King. Really, it wasn’t the girl’s fault at all, but she was the weakest link and Visenya really had no choice but to capitalize on that weakness. Pity really, she had almost not gone through with it when the girl had begun blubbering. She put a hand on her stomach with a sigh, perhaps pregnancy was making her soft. Perhaps she should ensure the ships stores were-

**No**, intimidation worked fine, there was no need to pursue the issue further. She knew the girl would take her at her word and her loyal guards had no doubt already persuaded the girl’s father to be logical about this whole situation. She doused the last wisps of the fire with water and left Aegon’s chambers after ordering the nearest servants to burn the bed and find a replacement, of course. She may not hate Aline, but she certainly wanted no reminders of her husband’s foolishness. She would burn the entire room if there wasn’t a danger of burning the whole Aegonfort with them. She opened her chamber door and slid in, rejoicing in the warm light provided by the many candles. She was much less happy to see Aegon still present, sitting in her bed, reading through a list of reports his advisers had sent him, most of them regarding the damn Dornish War. _He really had no decency_.

“Is it done?” He asked her, standing to help her remove her light armor. She stood stiff and silent as he worked to quickly undo the clasps, his clever fingers working nimbly to free her of her restraining costume.

“Yes, your problem has been handled.” She replied coldly when he finally finished, shrugging out of her armor, and his grasp, as soon as she was free. She moved to her vanity and removed the remainder of her hair rings, allowing her long silver-gold locks to flow freely. “_Your indiscretion_, and her family, should be boarding the next ship to Mereen as we speak.” She stiffened as she felt his hands grasp her tense shoulders.

“Thank you.” He whispered in her ear, but this only caused her to shrug out of his grasp once more, moving to pull on her shift.

“Are you thanking me for fixing your mess once again, or thanking me for hurting someone who loved you?” She cut back as she pulled the light garment over her head.

“Visenya-”

“You should have been man enough to confront her yourself, brother.” Visenya cut back, interrupting him. “You created this debacle by bedding the girl, you should have been the one to send her away.” Her voice is cold, conveying all the hatred she felt for him in that moment. She heard him sigh wearily.

“You know why I couldn’t.” He murmured, moving to embrace her from behind again, both hands resting over her stomach. She didn’t answer him, simply staring off at the candles flickering before her. “I promise you, it will not happen again.” She turned at this, grasping his face in her hands forcefully, pressing hard enough that he winced.

“No, it will not. We were lucky this time that you did not get her with child, but this will not always be the case. I will have no base-born, half-breed welp challenging Rhaenys’ son, nor ours.” She hissed, placing a hand over her stomach, whose gentle swell was just becoming discernible to the touch. “And I will not allow you to **desecrate** our sister’s memory. You shall never remarry, do you understand me? Never.” He gently cupped her face, forcing her violet eyes into his deep indigo ones.

“I understand.” He said, before gently pressing a kiss to her forehead and despite her best efforts she felt her anger fade away. “You know I was never as strong as you and Rhaenys, but from now on I will give you leave to strike me if I ever offend you again. I shall remain loyal to you and her memory as long as I live.” Visenya sighed and finally allowed him to embrace her, rejoicing in the warmth of his arms. Yet, part of her knew he wouldn’t keep that promise. Aegon had always been greedy and she knew that although he would be cowed for awhile, soon he'd begin to desire for that which he could not have, leaving her to pick up the pieces. Like always.


	5. Chapter 5

Visenya’s eyes flew open as she heard the hinges of her chamber door creak, her hand reaching for the knife she kept under her pillow. She squinted as the form of a man stood in the doorway, barely illuminated by the faint light in the hall behind him. With a sigh, she released the weapon, recognizing the silhouette, although knowing who it was disturbing her slumber did little to relieve her urge to stab him, and she barely suppressed a groan as her brother-husband slowly closed the door behind him. She watched him approach her bed slowly, his movements slow and languid, the moonlight shining in through her large windows providing more than enough light to make out her brother’s face. His eyes, always a darker purple than her own, were almost black with desire, and his muscled body was barely concealed beneath a light shirt and trousers, making it more than obvious to her why he was here. She didn’t move a muscle as he sat down on the bed, hoping beyond hope that he would think her sleeping and simply leave. Yet, when she felt a hand gently caress her exposed shoulder she knew he would not be leaving of his own accord this night.

“Visenya?” He whispered, his voice low and sensual. “I know you’re awake.” She suppressed a sigh and opened her violet eyes, rolling to her side to look up at him.

“Barely, Aegon. Why are you here?” She responded as his hand continued to stroke her shoulder, causing her flesh to erupt in goose prickles.

“I am here to visit you, sweet Senya. I missed you.” He told her with a smile, causing Visenya to raise an unimpressed eyebrow at his words as she rested her head on her hand to stare up at him.

“You saw me not four hours past in your study-”

“You know that doesn’t count.” He responded, his hand moving closer to her neck as he spoke.

“And why not? We see each other daily, Aegon, you have no cause to miss me.” She told him, watching him carefully as he leaned down towards her, his indigo eyes boring into her violet ones.

“Oh, I disagree,_ seeing_ is not being with you." He whispered, bringing his face closer and closer to hers and Visenya found herself fighting every instinct in her body not to shrink away. “I’ve missed your laugh, Senya, your touch,” his lips ghosted against hers. “Your kiss.” His lips captured hers hungrily, hands grasping her face with a desperation she was not used to experiencing. She was still as a statue as his lips enveloped hers, noting at once that his kiss was different than usual. Her hand instinctively snaked around his neck to rest on the nape of his neck, but she found it already slightly sticky with perspiration. She knew then what was happening here and perhaps would have allowed it anyways, if she had not smelled a familiar lavender sent in his hair as he moved his lips from hers. Disgust rose up inside her as her little sister’s favorite perfume invaded her senses and without thinking her arms fell limp at her sides.

“Aegon, stop.” She gasped as his teeth nicked her neck. “Aegon, I said stop!” She yelled angrily, finally using her strength to push him off her. He stared at her in confusion as she struggled out of the bed sheets and into the cold air of her chambers.

“Visenya?” He asked, his voice both irritated and confused, as she hugged her shaking form, eyes focused on the moon outside her window. She heard him move from the bed and she shuddered as she felt him approach her. Her hand was still sticky with sweat her sister had created, her lips still stinging from the kiss Aegon usually reserved for Rhaenys, her nose still consumed with that smell-”Visneya, what’s wrong?”

“What have I done to make you treat me like this?” She inquired softly, although her voice was still loaded with anger. She heard his approach stop briefly as her words wash over him.

“What-”

“I can still smell her on you, Aegon.” She interrupted, still refusing to turn back to him. “I can still feel her on your skin and in your kiss. Now tell me, did you leave our sister’s bed tonight to fulfill your supposed duty to me?” She heard him sigh and she knew if she turned around now his face would be scrunched in irritation, brow creased, mouth slightly turned down, and eyes squinted.

“Visenya-

“Well? Did you?” She inquired again, her voice cold and contemptuous. She felt him resume his approach once more, and knew he was probably no more than an arm’s distance from her.

“I did come from our sister’s bed,' He finally replied, "but-”

“But what? You weren’t planning to do _what you always do?_” Visenya accused, although she already knew the answer. “Stay barely long enough to spill your seed and then disappear?”

“I-” He said, “Visenya, please don’t-”

“Please don’t what?” She yelled, finally turning around to face him, watching her husband take a step back as the force of her fury washed over him. “Please don’t be angry? Please don’t be upset? Please just allow me to rut on top of you so I can run back to our sister in a timely manner? Which one, Aegon?” He ran a hand through his silver-gold hair, mouth pressed in a hard line. _“Which one?!”_ Aegon raised his hands placatingly as he approached her, but she backed away, keeping out of his reach, unwilling to let him touch her with the hands that had just been groping their sister.

“Please just be reasonable and hear me out." Aegon begged, slowing to halt when he realized he was just driving her further away, "I did not come here from our sister’s bed like you’re thinking, I slept there, yes, but she refused me so-”

“So you come to me and expect me to just be waiting here for you?” She whispered, knowing her face was probably torn between fury and disbelief. He licked his lips nervously and she felt her heart crack within her chest. “Of course you did.” She murmured, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at him with the same ferocity she had when she had addressed the Lords of Crackclaw Point all those years ago during the conquest. “Did you perhaps consider that I might be sleeping when you swept into my rooms tonight?” She inquired slowly, eyes narrowed at him in disgust. “Or that I might be occupied?” he opened his mouth to respond, but soon closed it, eyes turned down to the ground. “No, you didn’t, because you never think of me. You never consider how your actions affect me or that perhaps you are not my entire world.” She brushed a piece of silver-gold hair from her face angrily, wishing she could grab her dagger once more and use it to force him from her rooms. “Have you ever considered, husband, what it must be like to have your husband leave you the second he’s finished? To humiliate you at every turn, to abandon you at every possible moment, and to prove again and again that _he does not care for you in the slightest?_” Aegon’s brow furrowed at her words, and he reached out a hand for her, but she shrunk out of his grasp. “Well, not tonight, Aegon.” She told him coldly, pushing past him to return to her bed. “I am tired from today, I am weary of your company, and I am not in the mood for what you have in mind, so go off and sate your desires elsewhere." She pulled the bed sheets around her and turned her back to him, glaring off towards the door from which he had come. “Go off and leave me in peace.” Silence reigned for a moment as he stood where she had left him, still as a statue.

“I didn’t know you were so unhappy with out marriage.” He finally said, his voice slower and more thoughtful than usual.

“Yes you did, you just didn’t care as long as it didn’t inconvenience you.” She answered quietly, hugging herself beneath the sheets to stop herself from shaking. ”Or your desires.”

“I have many desires Visenya,” He told her and she knew he was approaching the bed once more and she found her fingers wrapping around the hilt of her dagger. “some of those do involve your happiness and spending time with you-"

“Well, "spending time with you" you always seems to involve politics or your cock.” She cut back, still not looking at him. “And I am not in the mood for either tonight."

“You know there is more to our marriage than just those two things,” He responded, his voice slightly more irritated now. “things that don’t involve politics or fucking.”

“Not in our marriage.” She replied, her tone matching his. “You only ever come here to consult me about some issue you're having with our newly forged empire or stick your cock in me, and that’s clearly not happening-”

“I come here for other things as well. To talk to you, to enjoy your company-” He sighed and she heard him swallowing heavily before speaking once more. “What if I came here only to share your bed? Just to sleep in your embrace, not to, as you keep crudely saying, "fuck" you?” Visenya can't help but laugh at this, shaking her head, although she still kept her body turned away from him.

“Likely story.”

“What if it’s the truth?” Aegon asked, and she knew he wasprobably standing right beside her bed at this point.

“Well then by all means, husband, climb in.” She retorted, expecting him to continue to stand there, but the sudden impact of a body on the bed beside her proves her wrong.

“Kindly make room, wife.” He muttered and she grudgingly shifted over to allow him to slide under the blankets beside her. For a few minutes they lay there in heavy silence, both too irritated at the other to actually sleep. “I’m sorry.” He finally said, his words cracking the silence like a rock through stained glass.

“For what?” She questioned gruffly, one hand still on the dagger as she glared at the wall away from him.

“For coming her tonight without thinking about you, it was ungallant of me.” He replied, causing her to glance at him over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised in contempt.

“Yes, yes it was.” She answered with a brief glare before turning her head back towards the wall.

“I suppose you think me ungallant in other aspects of our marriage as well?” He asked, drawing a scornful laugh from her full lips. 

“I could name a few.”

“Well, I’m sorry for those too.” He mutters, shifting slightly beside her as she shook her head at him silently. She could feel the heat of his body now that he was so close and she knew he wouldn’t be saying any of this if she had given him what he came here for.

“No you’re not.” She finally replied softly. “Give me a little respect and at least be honest with me.” He sighed and for a minute they both just laid there in silence.

“You’re right, I’m not.” He finally said, earning him an annoyed grunt from her in response. “but I am sorry I have hurt you, as your brother and your husband it’s my job to protect you from harm and it seems I have failed in both those roles.”

“We both know I don’t need your protection.” She retorted softly, stiffening as she felt his hand rest on her shoulder, his thumb lightly caressing her skin.

“Not from others, but we both know those we love can hurt us the most." He whispered, and she could feel his gaze burning into the back of her head. "I know I forget that sometimes, that you’re not just the Dragon Queen, that although you’re strong, you still feel. It’s easier to remember that with Rhaenys. You’re so strong while she is-”

“Strong, in her own way.” Visenya interrupted, fingers playing along the hilt of her dagger lest his hand move from its current position.

“Yes,” he murmured in agreement, “but not like you, who sleep with a dagger under your pillow.” He gently pressed a kiss to her shoulder as he said this and she couldn't help the smirk that captured her lips for a moment. "You can release that, by the way, I promise I won't do anything rash." She sighed, but did release her weapon, if only so she could have both her hands free if necessary.

“No one is like me.” She told him, finally turning to look at him, her violet eyes meeting his indigo ones.

“Very true.” He answered, his hand moving to cup her face. “You are truly one of a kind, Senya, and deserve to be treated like the precious jewel you are.”

“Oh, I’m a jewel now? I don't like that, it makes me sound fragile.” She said and Aegon smiled as he brushed a piece of hair out of her face.

“Not fragile, but not impervious to damage either.” He responded and they just laid there for few minutes in silence, remindeding of all the times they spent together as children, laying together until the darkness passed. How long ago those times seemed. “Can I sleep her tonight?” He finally requested, earning him a raised eyebrow.

“Only sleep?” She responded suspiciously.

“Yes, only sleep," Aegon confirmed with a smile, "to prove to you that I can be better, and things could be better between us.”

“One act won’t change everything that’s happened.” Visenya murmured, earning her a sad and slightly guilt ridden (not really guilt-ridden enough in her opinion) sigh.

“I know, but I can try.” He replied, looking at her earnestly as she considered his words for a moment. A part of her still wanted him gone, but another part-

“You may stay if that’s what you want.” She finally told him and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“It is.”

“Then stay.” She whispered and closed her eyes. She felt him wrap his arms around her and rejoiced slightly as she rested her head on his muscled chest, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in his warmth and smiling as he pressed another kiss to her forehead.

“I love you, you know," She heard him say as his thumb gently stroked her arm, "More than life, more than this kingdom, more than-”

“Yes, I know.” She interrupted, still keeping her eyes closed. “but you're terribly self-obsessed about it. Now, go to sleep, I’m tired.”

“As you wish, my queen.” Aegon whispered and Visenya finally drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

\-----------------------------

Aegon watched his older sister-wife as she drifted off to sleep and he couldn't help but feel a painful stab of guilt as his eyes caressed her peaceful face. He had not been kind to her over the years, that much he knew, and he also knew he had been unfair to her as a husband. How many times had he crept from her bed to join Rhaenys? How many times had he sacrificed her needs for his own? Probably too many to count. He sighed as he gently stroked her cheek, watching as the smallest of smiles played upon her full lips. He would have to be better, and he knew he could be.

"Don't worry, my love," He whispered to her as his eyes drifted closed. "I'll stay here with you until long after the sun rises." 


	6. Chapter 6

The rain beats down on Orys and his company as they ride through the maelstrom back towards the lights of Storm’s End. He looks up at the angry sky wearily as lightning flashes above him and he is more than a little relieved as he and his men safely thunder into his castle’s courtyard. He jumps down from his steed quickly, brushing rain out of his eyes as he hands his reins to a page before quickly striding into his castle, sighing in relief as he enters the Round Hall and the warmth emanating from its Great Fire. However, this relief quickly dissipates as he almost trips over a fallen form lying between the great tables. With a grunt he steadies himself against the nearest oak table, staring down at the unconscious form of one of his guards. The man’s face is pale, a red mark near his temple slowly bruising to a deep purple, although the steady rise and fall of his chest confirms that he is still alive. As his heart beat rises to a rapid and close to panicked pace. Orys slowly traces the aisle before him and finds several other bodies in similar conditions, all unconscious and as still as death-

“Took you long enough, Orys.” A voice says, originating from the far end of the room and interrupting his investigation into what had just happened her. He swallows as his eyes slowly rise to stare at the Great Storm Throne, which still sits upon its dais looming over the hall as it had during the time of the Storm Kings of House Durrandon. “I was starting to fear you’d never return and I’d have to fly back to King’s Landing without seeing you.” Orys knows that voice well and even before he looks up at the throne he knows who he’ll find there.

“Visenya?” He asks, although really, there was no mistaking her for anyone else, not with her distinctive silver-gold hair and bright violet eyes, which were now fixed on him like a hawk’s as he approachea the dais. “I was not expecting-”

“No, you weren’t.” She says interrupts, staring down at him with the same regal confidence that made so many courtiers in King’s Landing bow lower to her than they did the king. “Yet here I am.” He finally reaches the base of the dais and bows his head to her in deference, before looking up to meet her bright eyes.

“It is an honor, as always, my queen.” He intones, searching her face for any clue as to why she was here as he steps onto the dais. “May I ask why?”

“Why? Well, because I heard a rumor.” She answers, her eyes seeming to burn like fire in the dim light of the Round Hall. “A very interesting one, at that.” Her voice is smooth, cold, and melodious, but there is an edge to it, a sharp, pointed thing that worries him a great deal.

“What rumor?” He asks, taking another step toward her, although chills run up his back as he does and the fingers of his remaining hand itch to reach for his sword. Her eyes glance at his left hand than back at his face, while a small smirk plays at the corner of her full, red lips.

“Why, the one about your wife and her plot against my husband, of course.” His half-sister replies and Orys’ blood rushes through his veins and for the first time since he returned from Dorne, true fear blooms in his chest. He draws his sword as Visenya stands, her riding leathers dark against her pale skin, Dark Sister sheathed at her side, as always. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow at the blade wavering not an arm’s length from her face. “Now, now, brother, put the sword down. We both know this isn't a fight you can win and I’m in no mood to spill blood.” Orys glances back towards his fallen men at her words.

“You mean spill more than you already have?” He growls as she slowly approaches him, coming well within reach of his sword.

“Spill more?" She inquires with faux innocence, undaunted by the blade hovering so close to her exposed flesh, "Dear Orys, I spilled none, they are simply unconscious, not dead. I would have let them be if they hadn’t insisted on getting in my way as I went to confront your wife.” Orys’ eyes go wide and he glances back towards the staircase leading up to the Lord’s rooms. He feels the air shift around him and almost jumps when he returns his gaze to her, startled by how close she nshe had gotten in his brief moment of inattention. She is well within arms reach now, the blade of his sword quivering dangerously close to the soft, pristine skin of her neck.

“If you hurt her-”

“Oh stop.” Visenya says contemptuously, cutting him off with a casual wave of her hand. “I had no need to hurt her, I came to her seeking answers, not vengeance. She and your son, Raymont, was it? Yes?” Orys nods, eyes focused on her as she reaches out a hand for him. “She and your little one are quite all right, although she may have a headache later from the truth drug I forced her to drink at swordpoint-"

"You forced her to what?" He screams, his sword moving closer to her neck than most people would be comfortable with. She raises an eyebrow at him calmly, eyes fixed on his face and pointedly not on the blade that could kill her at any moment.

"I forced her to drink a concoction that ensures one can only tell the truth, believe me Orys, if she hadn't been your wife and the mother of my nephew, I would have used much less pleasant methods of getting the answers I needed. Although even with her status as my good sister, if the plan I heard about was actually enacted, well.” Visenya shrugs as her hand covered his, warm to the touch as always. “I’m afraid the Stormlands would have a new ruling house by now.”

“Is she all right?" He inquires softly as her hand rests on his.

"Yes, sleeping it off, she won't remember a thing, except a chilling fear whenever she even considers treason again." His sister replies cooly, causing Orys to sigh in relief.

"She didn’t mean it.” He tells her as her fingers slowly massage his swordhand, forcing his fingers to loosen around the hilt of his sword.

“She didn’t?” Visenya whispers mockingly, and suddenly his sword is knocked from his hand and he feels himself pushed onto the Storm Throne, Visenya holding him down with a strong hand and knee on his thigh. “That's not what she told me , Orys.” Visenya tells him as she leans forward, the harsh beauty of her face making her only more intimidating as she all but glowered at him. “She told me she meant every word, even if there was no hope of ever acting upon them."

"Sister-"

"The King is weak now!" She declares, her a frightening replica of his wife's. "He hasn’t been seen or heard of from in weeks, not since news of Queen Rhaenys’ death! If we were ever going to move against those who took everything from my family, now would be the time!” Orys closes his eyes in shame as Visenya repeated his wife’s words. “If we move now, we could take it all, the whole of the kingdoms! The king trusts you, especially now that he’s lost one sibling, you could easily-”

“Stop!” Orys says, cutting her off, feeling her knee dig into his thigh. “Please, stop.” She pulls away slightly at his words, looking down at him with eyes he had known since they first opened, but now seemed almost alien to him in their grief and disappointment. 

“I didn’t want to believe it.” She whispers as she finally releases him, turning to stare off at the empty Round Hall. “I thought, surely not, not under my brother’s roof. In the farthest corners of the Reach perhaps, or maybe even in that frozen excuse for a North, but not in Storm’s End, not with my brother as Lord.” Visenya’s voice is angry as she speaks, but also so horribly sad that Orys wants nothing more than to pull her close and comfort her like he had when they were both children.

“Visenya, I-”

“I trusted you to protect us!” She yells, turning to face him, tears forming like diamonds in those violet eyes. “I trusted you! Aegon trusted you! Our older brother, our protector! I thought of all people, you’d at least support us now! Not seek to kick us while we were down, mourning as the greatest of us, the best-” Her voice cracks and she closed her eyes before taking a deep breath.

“I know,” He whispers, looking down at his hand. “I should not have let her run her mouth, but nothing came of it, Visenya. Those were rash words uttered thoughtlessly, but as you no doubt know, we have done nothing to support those words with action-”

“You’ve done nothing?” She inquires, voice low and hard, “You kept silent, brother. You could have told us, could have warned us! Treason brewing here is a sign of greater unrest, greater instability, yet you stayed silent. You chose to protect her, over protecting your family.” She shakes her head as she speaks, a cruel smile playing at her lips. “You betrayed us, Orys.”

“She’s the mother of my son, Visenya.” He murmurs listlessly, weakly, looking down at the floor in shame. “If I had told you, what would you and Aegon have done? What could you have done? You would have been forced to drag her to King’s Landing, put her on trial, punish her as an example for others who dare defy the Dragon’s rule.” He looks up at her defiantly as he speaks, unwilling to let her walk all over him,“And I won’t let you do that to the mother of my heir and the woman I love.” Visenya narrows her eyes at him as he says that, before letting out a small laugh. With a quick hand she releases her hair from its long braid, running deft fingers through it to let it cascade behind her like a curtain of pure precious metals. Orys watches, slightly mesmerized as she shakes her head softly, her eyes meeting his as she slowly stalks towards him.

“You love her, you say?” She asks softly as she reaches the throne, leaning forward so their faces are barely a hand’s width apart. “Now that’s new.” He swallows as his eyes trace the line of her jaw and neck, almost gasping as her hand came to rest on his.

“It was not love at first sight, but Argella is a good wife and mother. She is kind, caring, and strong, a good woman, a worthy woman for my love.” His voice hitches as she runs a hand up his arm. “Far worthier than you.” Visenya laughs lightly at this, looking into his coal-black eyes with enough heat that he feels as if his heart is burning in his chest. Then, as quick as a striking snake, her lips meet his in a passionate kiss. He gasps as she devours him, her lips hot against his, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip sending arcs of pleasure traveling down his body. Without thinking he pulls her down to him, groaning into her mouth as she moves to straddle him, feeling the curves of her body press against him even through her leathers. When they break apart, he’s breathing hard, looking up at her like he had when they were children, him a year older, but still in awe of her fierce, cold beauty. “You think she deserves your love.” Visenya whispers as she wraps her arms around his neck. “But I see you’re still in love with me.” Orys sighs as she gently pecks his cheek, moving her lips along his cheekbone until her mouth finds the meat of his earlobe, which she gently takes between her teeth as he gasps in surprise.

“Visenya!" He groans as he runs a hand along her body.

“Well? Aren’t you?” She whispers sensually in his ear once she releases his lobe.

“Of course I am,” He answers back gruffly, feeling himself grow hard beneath her as she slowly pressed herself against him. “But that changes nothing. Arg-” He gasps as she undoes the top of her leathers, revealing swaths of tantalizing, pale skin. He shakes his head and focuses on her eyes, reminding himself of who she is, although that does little to quell the ache gathering in his loins. “Argella is my wife.” He tells her, even as his hands rest on her slowly gyrating hips. "and-oh gods!” He mutters as she suddenly comes down hard on him, causing his hands to spasm against her. “And I will protect her, from our enemies, from our friends,” he glares into her eyes with as much defiance as he could muster. “even from you.” Visenya runs a hand down his chest as he speaks, her nails causing small sparks to erupt across his skin through his wet shirt, which she slowly began to unbutton. “That’s what marriage means, doesn’t it? Protecting each other-oh!” He moans as she rakes her nails up his now bare chest. “Isn’t that why you’re here now? Protecting him?!” He finally spits out, even as his skin seems to burn under her menstrations. Her actions halt for a second and she grabs his chin forcefully, looking deeply into his eyes. “Because you love him, love him enough to do whatever it takes to protect him-fuck!” He curses as she reaches between their legs and his hand instinctively grips the laces of her leathers, quickly pulling them loose, biting into her exposed neck as he pulls the breastplate off her, leaving her torso covered in nothing but a thin tunic. He kisses his way up her jaw before pulling her lips to his, tasting her fully as their tongues warred for dominance. She moans softly against him as he moves his hands to her breasts, feeling the taunt muscles of her abdomen tighten beneath silky skin. “The question is-” he murmurs between kisses. “Is-” he gasps as she bites his lip, feeling the soft skin break and tasting the salty blood that boils from the broken flesh.

“Can you actually do it?” She finishes, arching against him as she looks deeply into his eyes. “Commit this ultimate betrayal?” She grabs his face in her hands, her nails digging into his scalp. "Even if you know what it will cost you?"

“Will you let me?” He responds breathlessly, hands resting on her ass. In response she stands, pulling her riding boots and trousers off with ease, revealing long, pale legs, covered with slightly pink scars from her years of dragon riding. With a smirk worthy of a goddess she pulls her thin tunic over head, revealing all her glory for him to see and his cock aches with longing. She slowly sways towards him, pushing his legs open as she kneels between his thighs, hands resting on the strings of his trousers.

“I think the better question is, brother: _Will you let me_?” She asks and slowly pulls at his trouser strings, loosening them enough to roll them down his hips. She holds his gaze she does, waiting for his word. When she finally rolls the trousers below his groin he groans and without a second thought pulls her to him, capturing her lips hungrily, like a man who had been starving all his life. He tangles his hand in her hair, rejoicing in the softness of the silky strands, revelling in the taste he had denied himself for so long. With a growl she pushes him back against throne, keeping a hand on his chest as she slowly climbs onto him, her violet eyes like two fires, scorching him right to his soul. For a second they just stay there, staring at each other, and he thinks he should turn back, that he should end this, but then he thrusts up to meet her and really nothing matters anymore, not Argella sleeping above them, not his brother mourning in king's Landing, none of them. All that matters is him and Visenya, here now, together. 

\-----------------------

The storm outside rages, thunder and lightning easily concealing the noises of passion made within the Round Hall. Oh how the singers would have sung if they heard the cries of Orys One-Hand, or the moans of the Dragon Queen. How the mummers would have laughed as they reenacted the debauchery that took place that night, as Orys’ loyal wife slept soundly above them and King Aegon mourned for his beloved Rhaenys in King's Landing. How the people would have jeered as the Queen took Orys first upon the Great Storm Throne, riding him like he was a bull, a beast for her to tame, and laughed as he was powerless to do anything but writhe beneath her, a slave to her body. Poets would have espoused how he took his revenge, forcing her down upon one of his great tables, rutting into her harder each time she bit him or their mouths met in a passionate kiss. Artists would have loved to paint how he had her from behind on the dais before the throne, hand in her hair as she rocked against him on all fours. Really, fun would have been had by all if people knew, knew of their passion, knew of their lust. No doubt songs would have been written about their war of desire, how it was was filled with bites, and scratches, kisses, and caresses, how Visenya finally proved herself the victor as she mounted him a final time, hand on his neck as she forced him to say how much he loved her. After that, as the storm itself seemed to fade away, the queen and her lord collapsed upon his cloak before the Storm Throne, her cradled against him as if they were lovers, both bodies marred with signs of passion, or perhaps vengeance. 

“I’ve dreamt of this for a long time.” He murmurs, running a hand over her back lightly, careful of the bruises he had left there.

“I know.” She replies softly, her hand resting on his chest right above his heart. “I hope you’re not disappointed.” He laughs lightly, twisting a lock of her hair around his finger.

“I’m not.” He tells her, releasing the strand and running a hand through her long hair. “But you are.”

“Not in the sex.” She mutters, tracing a hickey she had left on his neck.

“Of course not in the sex,” he answers, half in jest, before his face turned serious. “But you are disappointed in me.”

“You always could read me better than anyone.” She murmurs, cupping his face and stroking it almost wistfully.

“Just as you can me. I assume I failed your little test?” He asked, causing her to sigh at his words and worm her way out of his embrace.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did, although I hardly regret it.” She answers, running a hand down his leg, noting the bite mark she had left there.

“What are you going to do?” He asks raising himself onto his elbows to appraise her. She sighs again as she stands, moving over to where her leathers had been discarded earlier.

“I’m going to tell Aegon the truth.” She replies, pulling her tunic back over her head, concealing most of his marks on her skin.

“Which truth?” He pushes, grabbing his own shirt as she pulled her riding pants back on.

“That you’re no longer a Targaryen, that your allegiance is now to your fledgling house, not ours, that you were willing to commit the ultimate betrayal. that from now on your loyalty cannot be counted on.” She explains, voice resigned and tired as she glances back at him with sad violet eyes, pulling her leather breastplate back on, her deft, clever fingers redoing the laces quickly. He pulled his pants back on with a grunt, watching her as she ties her hair back behind her head in a loose plait.

“I suppose this is it, then?” He inquires as she refastened her belt, Dark Sister still sleeping soundly in its sheath.

“Yes, I think it is. From now on, you are but a lord, no more can be expected of you.” She tells him, her voice matter of fact, if a little regretful “And if you cross us again-”

“I know, I know. You’ll find a new lord for Storm’s End.” He interrupts sadly, trying his best to conceal the hurt he feels as she nods in confirmation.

“I wish it could have been different.” She says as she turns back towards the great door.

“As do I.” he replies, watching his sister leave him for the last time.

\------------------

Aegon stirs groggily as he feels Visenya finally slide into bed beside him. He blinks sleep out of his eyes as he turns over to face her, the first light of morning illuminating her silver-gold hair and the tired light of her violet eyes.

“You were gone for longer than I expected.” He murmurs, assessing the tired look in her eyes as he brushes a strand of her hair out of his face. “I assume that means-”

“Yes.” She interrupts, turning away from him. “He took the bait.” Aegon sighs, rubbing a hand over his face angrily. For a minute anger hotter than dragonfire consumes him, but it quickly dissipates as he traces the lines of Visenya's body through the coverlet. With a light hand he gently shifts the fabric of her shift down over her shoulder, revealing dark splotches where there was normally only pearly, pale skin. He almost growls as he traces the marks, finding more, and more, and more. “How many times-”

“Do you really want an answer to that question?” She asks sharply, angrily. For a second he does, but he thinks better of it, knowing well there were some questions that were better left unanswered. He sighs, pressing gently kiss to the nape of her neck.

“No, I’m sorry.” He whispers as he pulls her against him, encircling her waist in his arms as they both watch the sun peek above the horizon. She curls against him and it's only when he takes her hand that he feels the slight shivers running through her body. “Oh Visenya.” He murmurs, hugging her close as he feels her begin to cry. “I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn't be, it was my idea.” She replies, although her voice is still heavy with tears “But I didn’t think-”

“None of us did." He murmurs softly, stroking her hair as comfortingly as he can. "but, he’s always wanted you, ever since we were children. As disappointing as it is, it shouldn’t surprise us that he accepted. We were just hoping he’d have enough loyalty to me and our family to refuse.” He presses kiss to her head as he holds her a little tighter. “But Orys is his own man and has his own house to protect, as do we.” He gently kissed her neck once more as he glances past her towards the rising sun. “From now on, the only people we will protect are dragons, all others are simply prey to be prodded, or beasts to be eaten.” She squeezes his hand in acknowledgement and they both watch in silence as the sky turns red.


	7. Chapter 7

“Father, this is madness!” Aegon criea, staring at angrily at his father, Aerion Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone. His father stares back at him across his large oak desk and the calm resting on his father’s pale face and annoyance shining in his indigo eyes only further fuel Aegon’s rage.

“It’s not madness, Aegon, it’s tradition.” His father finally answers, the slightest hint of reprimand in his voice. “You’ve known that you were to wed your sister since you were old enough to walk.” Aegon scoffa at his father’s reply, tossing his head slightly to demonstrate his contempt.

“Yes, my sister, but Visenya-”

“Is your sister.” Lord Aerion interrupts dryly, jaw tightening slightly at Aegon’s impudence. “The sister you were always destined to marry, even if she is not the one-” Aegon stands, slamming his hands against the desk, cutting off his father’s words.

“You know well she and I are hardly destined for eachother-”

“And you know well our traditions!” His father responds, standing to look Aegon in the eyes. Although Aegon has grown tall in his fifteenth year, and will grow taller yet, Lord Aerion still towers a few inches above his son’s head and he uses every inch to glare down at Aegon in that moment. Aegon stares back defiantly, refusing to be cowed by his father’s burning gaze. “This has been our way since our family sojourned here from Valyria.”

“Yet, the Valyrian Freehold is no more, and all their magic, all their traditions, could not save them from fire and destruction, nor has it raised them from the ashes. Some would say their traditions are meant to be broken.” Aegon finally retorts, to which Lord Aerion smirks coldly.

“Perhaps, son, but as long as _I am Lord of Dragonstone_ they shall remain. Long have we married brother and sister on this island. Visenya is the oldest and the first dragonrider of your generation, I will not have her married off to the Velaryons or any of the Lords of Essos just to have her husband return with her claim and rip our house apart.” Lord Aerion grits his teeth and glares at Aegon as he clenches his fist on the surface of his desk “You shall marry her, bed her, and rule with her until your dying days, that is final!” Aegon seethes as his father turns his attention away from Aegon towards a pile of papers on his desk, clearly attempting dismiss Aegon and end this confrontation.

“Is Visenya really so determined to be lady that she agreed to this plan before I was even given an audience?” He finally asks, causing his father to look up at him with an arched eyebrow. “Or was it mother who convinced you to force us both into this marriage?” Lord Aerion stares at Aegon for two heartbeats, not saying a word, but suddenly laughter overtakes his entire form. His laughs bellow around the study, bouncing off the walls, seeming to mock Aegon from every angle. Aegon feels his cheeks heat up under this assault and his fists clench angrily at his side. “What have I said that is so amusing, father?” He inquires through gritted teeth as his father’s laughter finally quiets. Lord Aerion wipes his eyes with his pale hand, shaking his head at Aegon as mirth still dances across his face.

“Only one member of our family arrived here before you, Aegon,” Lord Aerion replies, looking up at Aegon with a smirk, “and it was neither your mother, nor Visenya.” Cold fills Aegon’s chest at his father’s words.

“Rhaenys?” Aegon asks softly, feeling dread begin seeping the fire from his blood.

“Indeed, she was quiet passionately opposed to this marriage as well. One can only wonder why.” His father comments carefully, looking up at Aegon with a raised brow as Aegon fights to keep his face impassive under his father’s bright gaze.

“Father, whatever she said-”

“Oh, she said a great deal, she has much to learn in the art of subtly, but that can be expected, she’s still mostly a child.” His father interrupts nonchalantly, although the edge to his words causes anxiety to bloom in Aegon’s heart. “It was her, in fact, that convinced me to stand firm against any entreaties you might make, although that was not her intention.” Aegon feels his heart drop inside his chest and for a second he loses his composure as a shudder runs through his body. He sees his father’s eyes flash and before he can even ask, his father says. “Yes son, I am well aware of what you two have been _doing_.” Aegon sinks back into his chair, feeling all the fight drained out of him.

“I see.” Aegon finally answers, looking up at his father.

“No, I don’t think you do.” Lord Aerion tells him, standing to walk around his desk to loom over Aegon. “What you and Rhaenys have done has brought the greatest shame to your mother and I. For Rhaenys, it has the potential to ensure she never makes a suitable match. For you, it threatens to label you forever as a man ruled by his lusts, who couldn’t even keep his hands off his own younger sister.” Lord Aerion shakes his head and looks behind Aegon towards the great portrait of their grandfather, Lord Daemion. “Your grandfather would be ashamed if he had lived to see this day, he always was always so proud of you.” Aegon fights the shame his father’s words called from the depths of his soul.

“I’m sorry to have disappointed my family, father.” He murmurs, ignoring the urge to point out who grandfather's real favorite had always been. “But there is a solution, just let me marry Rhaenys and Visenya.” His father turns to look at him so quickly Aegon fears his neck will snap.

“What did you just say?” He whispers, voice dangerous.

“I just said that perhaps I could take both my sisters as my wives, prevent any crises of succession and ensure Rhaenys makes a proper-” His father’s hand meets his cheek before he can even finish. Aegon stares up at him in shock as the right side of his face stings.

“Never mention that again in my presence!” Lord Aerion growls, looming over Aegon with a face dark with rage. If his father had truly been a dragon in that moment, Aegon figures he would be little more than charred ash. “That tradition was rare and almost taboo amongst our great ancestors and will certainly not be allowed here!”

“But father-”

“Enough of this, Aegon!” Lord Aerion declares, turning his back on his only son. “You are not a child any longer, you are a boy of five and ten, much too old for such childish whims and fancy.” He turns to glare at Aegon over his shoulder. “Visenya desires this match no more than you, but she understands her duty and has accepted it with grace, you would do well to follow her example, now get out of my sight, I’ve had enough of you today.” Aegon glares at his father’s turned back, but slowly stands, feeling his dismissal hanging between them.

“I’ll never forgive you for this, father.” Aegon tells him as he turns to leave. “Never.”

“I can live with that as long as our house remains.” His father responds, still staring out his window towards the angry sea.

"Just as you have lived with Visenya's hatred all these years?" Aegon curses back, going for the low blow even when he knows he shouldn't. "She's never forgiven you, you know, for making me your heir, and now you'll lose me as well. How long before you finally alienate Rhaenys and mother as well?"

“When you are Lord of Dragonstone, I’m sure you will understand why such things must be done.” His father answers, not even deigning to look at Aegon. "I could live with much worse for the sake of our line and Dragonstone's longevity." Aegon slams the door behind him angrily as his father’s words die. He can feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and rage shaking his bones with such a fury he yearns to lash out at all around him. Without even thinking he strides through the Halls of Dragonstone, brushing past servants who mutter at his angry face and even past Rhaenys whose own eyes water as their gazes briefly meet. She knows as well as he does that their father has doomed them all. Yet he does not let his sorrow take him on the ground, does not fall down weeping as his mother tries to embrace him.

No, it’s only when he’s in the air atop Balerion’s back that he allows the tears to fall. They burn against his cheeks in the cold wind and Balerion’s roars cover the sounds of his soft sobs. He isn’t entirely sure what to do now. He can’t bear to return to Dragonstone like this, can’t fathom the idea of meeting his father’s eye across the table at dinner, or having Rhaenys so close when he knows they can never be together. Another roar echoes across the sky, interrupting his thoughts, and Balerion dives down through the clouds without Aegon even giving him a command. Below him stretches a small island, its sand gray and rocky, but its center green and lush. On its small beach rests Vhagar, her bronze scales glistening in the sun's rays as they break through the clouds above. His older sister is nowhere to be seen.

Balerion comes to land beside his bronze sister and Vhagar growls at him lightly as he dismounts, tossing her great head towards the grove of trees. Aegon nods at the she-dragon, glad for her presence since he never would have searched for Visenya, let alone known where to start, and enters the trees, sighing in the cool darkness of their shadows. He pushes through the foliage slowly, careful of his steps lest he spring one of his sister’s many traps, until he reached a small clearing comprised of little more than a small pond fed by an underground spring. His sister sits beside it as she always does when she flees here, her long, silver-gold hair free of its usual braids. She glances at him over her shoulder with the same violet eyes as their grandfather, the water splashing softly as she kicks it with her bare legs.

“You look like you’ve been crying.” He tells her, not unkindly, as he enters the clearing, noting the red rings around her eyes.

“So do you.” Visenya replies, moving over slightly to allow him to sit next to her. He pulls off his jacket and shoes and rolls up his breeches to place his legs in the water beside her, hissing at the sudden cold. “I told you not to talk to him.”

“How could I not?” Aegon asks her, kicking the water angrily. “How could I keep my silence when he’s being so callous?” She sighs, looking down at their reflections in the water.

“You need to learn to control your anger.” Visenya mutters, running her fingers along the water’s surface. “You cannot control father, you can only control yourself and talking to him, or I imagine in your case, yelling at him, will achieve nothing to our benefit.” She looks up at him, her violet eyes bearing into his indigo ones. “You must learn when to act and when to wait.”

“Why thank you great sage for your words of wisdom.” Aegon mutters sarcastically, staring at their weak reflections in the pool’s surface. “You should have tried to reason with him, you’ve always been the one he'll listen to, even after all your years of despising him. Maybe if you had-”

“Nothing would have changed.” His sister tells him gently, cutting off his increasingly desperate speculation. “It’s not as if this was a spur of the moment decision, we’ve known this for a long time, his announcement just made it official.” Aegon curses under his breath and hits the water, sending droplets flying through the air. They sit in silence for a few moments, the air between them heavy with emotion.

“Rhaenys also went and spoke to him today.” He confesses. “She got to him before I did.” Visenya groans and tosses her in in irritation.

“Oh for Gods’ sake-”

“He knows about her and I, Visenya.” He tells her, looking at his older sister almost desperately. “He knows it all.” Visenya sighs and purses her lips, running a wet hand through her long hair.

“Well, that explains his sudden desire to have us wed so soon.” She murmurs as she begins braiding the rich, silver-gold locks. “You two weren’t exactly being subtle-”

“Like you and Orys were ever subtle.” He retorts sharply, watching her hands pause for a minute in their work, the golden strands suspended between her fingers.

“Flirting is not the same as sex, Aegon.” His sister replies dryly as his face heats up ever so slightly. “If you two were really so eager to consummate your relationship, you should have just flown out to one of the islands, not thrown yourselves on each other on Dragonstone where anyone could see-”

“All right, your point is made.” He interrupts, looking away from her towards the trees, feeling his face burn as he remembers the face of the poor servant girl who had come across him and Rhaenys. It was only with Visenya’s help they had managed to secure her silence, but-

He gasped as a wave of cold water hit his arm, splashing up his neck and down the collar of his shirt. He turns towards Visenya, his eyes narrowed.

“To help cool your temper, brother.” She informs him with a small smile, although it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. He smirks back at her and quickly wipes that look off her face with a wave of water. She inhales sharply as she brushes the water from her face, glaring at him when he smiles innocently back at her.

“To hide your tears, sister.” Quick as a whip she hits him again, the cold salt water stinging his eyes as it runs down his face. He blindly splashes at her again, but suddenly feels a sudden push from behind and he falls into the pond. He surfaces sputtering, wiping water from his eyes as Visenya laughs at him from the shore, her tunic now clinging to her from his watery attacks.

“I think I win.” She gloats over him as he swims to the side of the pond, grasping the stony edge as he pulls himself out of the water.

“Are you sure about that?” Aegon asks as he suddenly lunges towards her and wraps his arms around her her lithe form. She shrieks and tries to fight him off as he drags her towards the pool, although he knows as well as she that if she really wanted to escape, she could with a few well placed kicks. He moves to toss her in, but as he releases her into the pond she grabs his tunic, dragging him back into the frigid water with her. They both surface, their hair clinging to them like tendrils of molten silvery gold.

“I think I still won.” She tells him as they tread beside each other in the cold water.

“Considering we’re both now floating in a cold pond, soaked to the bone? I think we can call it a draw.” He replies, brushing a strand of loose hair out of her face, feeling the warmth of her skin contrast sharply with the water around them. “Your hair is more golden than mine.” He comments quickly when he realizes his hand had lingered, moving his hand away from her face almost like it's an afterthought. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“It always has been.” His sister replies with an arched eyebrow as the current pushes them together.

“I guess I never noticed.” Aegon mutters, almsot instinctively wrapping an arm around her waist as she presses against his chest.

“You never had an eye for detail.” She whispers, wrapping her own arms around his shoulders. "At least when it comes to my appearance."

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that.” He replies softly, "I remember being very observant that night in the Dragonmount." She laughs lightly as their eyes meet, violet and indigo, both burning with pure dragonfire. 

"I think we remember that night differently." She murmurs as he rests his forehead against hers. He stares into her eyes for a long moment, waiting for her to recoil or pull away, but she doesn't. She meets his gaze fearlessly and without another thought he brings his lips to hers and they sink below the pond’s surface. The water is cold around him, but her body and her lips are soft and warm under his own and every brush of her hand leaves a trail of fire across his skin.

“Visenya,” he gasps as they finally surface, stroking her now cool cheek with his thumb. “I-” Whatever he was about to say is cut off by a wave of cold water in his face. As he clears his eyes she wriggles from his embrace and pulls herself back to shore, her wet clothes clinging to the curves of her body as she wrings out her long braid, the smallest of frowns marring the austere beauty of her face. "Always so cold, sister." He tells her as she pulls her shoes back on her feet.

"Always so manipulative, brother." She responds, wrapping her arms around her torso. 

"I wasn't-"

“Come on, Aegon, it’s getting too late for this kind of game.” His sister interrupts, glancing towards the West where the sun is now touching the horizon. He nods in acknowledgement, his lips still tingling from their kiss as he pulls himself from the pond.

"I'm not playing any game today, Visenya." He mutters as he picks up his discarded shoes and jacket before slowly coming to stand next to her as she moves to leave the forest. She scoffs softly at his word, but gives no response, simply striding back into the dark shadows of the trees. He sighs and follows her, only speaking again as her shoulders begin trembling.“Are you cold?” He asks her as they stride through the darkening grove.

“A little, it seems my fool of a brother decided that playing the romantic in a cold pond would be a good idea.” Visenya replies curtly. He sighs at her words and pulls his still dry jacket off and puts it around her slightly shaking shoulders. She looks up at him with narrowed eyes as he secures it around her before gently taking her hand.

“I wasn't playing, Visenya. I do love you, you know, perhaps not like I do Rhaenys, but I do love you.” He murmurs as they begin walking again, hands still clasped together. "I loved you first and it was you I kissed first."

"If I remember correctly, I kissed you." She retorts before sighing, her face softening like clay in the sun, "but yes, I do know you love me, but how long will such a love last under the weight of your resentment? We may love each other now, but let's not pretend this marriage won’t make us both miserable.” He sighs at her words, but has to acknowledge she's right. People say love is all enduring, but that's hardly the case when it comes to dragons. “Both of us want things the other simply cannot provide.” He squeezes her hand as they finally reach the beach. Vhagar and Balerion stare at them curiously, their dragon eyes looking very unimpressed at the sight of their soaking riders.

“I know, but we will have to make do, we shouldn't spurn each other now for fear of what we'll become later. Not to mention, Father is Lord, and his word is law.” Aegon answers, pulling her against his chest as he leans’ against Balerion’s warm hide. "I wish things could be different for us, but-"

“He won’t be lord forever.” Visenya murmurs against him, cutting of his words. He looks down at her in confusion. “One day you’ll be Lord of Dragonstone and then you can do what you please, even save us both from what will be marriage of hate, as long as we can find the right precedent.” His heart hammers in his chest at her words.

“So I could-” He looks down at her and she nods with a knowing looking on her face. “Do you think you could do it? Find such a precedent?” She gently strokes his cheek with a cool finger.

“Of course, Aegon, we both know I can do just about anything with the right motivation. I will find that precedent and more, as long as you give me the title I want and the freedom to do what I please once I fulfill my end. You may have Rhaenys if she wants you, as long as I get my freedom.” He takes her hand and presses a soft kiss to her knuckles.

“You will have all you want and more, my dark sister.” Aegon whispers softly against her still damp skin. "And I will love you for it."

“And I will love you for not forcing me to be something so against my nature." Visenya replies, clasping his hands tightly, hope dancing in her violet eyes. "We can do this and more, Aegon, as long as we are patient.”

“Yes,” he mutters, stroking her hand with his thumb as their dragons’ scales begin glowing in the golden light. “As long as we are patient.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you sure?” Aegon asked the Maester softly, his dark form outlined only by the candles glimmering beside Visenya’s bed. “Absolutely sure?”

“Yes, my king.” Grandmaester Gawen replied, his voice low as both men turned to gaze at Visenya, who lay silently on the bed. “The queen is indeed with child.” The news rolled across the room like a tidal wave, heavy and portentous, and as it hit Visenya she couldn’t help but feel like she was drowning.

“That’s impossible.” She finally murmured, “I’m too old.” However even as these words left her lips, she knew it to be true, had suspected it for two moons now, in fact. She had thought, at first, that perhaps her moon blood had finally stopped, not an unexpected occurrence when she was rapidly approaching the age where such a change was inevitable. However, right as she had accepted that no more dragon heirs would come from her, she had been hit with the telling sickness, the overpowering nausea, the telltale changes in her figure, and she had known. This examination was really more of a formality, like the pronunciation of a ruling that had been coming for months, but was nonetheless not entirely welcome.

“You are _older_, your majesty,” the maester responded kindly, taking a step closer to look down into Visenya’s violet eyes, “but as long as you continued to have your monthly bleeding, it is only unlikely, not impossible.” Visenya pursed her lips and turned away from the maester as Aegon finally stopped his restless pacing and sat down by her side, placing a warm hand on her shoulder, which she had to fight to not push off. She couldn’t help but blame him for this, even though she was wise enough to know the fault did not entirely lie with him. After all, it was hardly his fault that the burnt remains of a Dornish keep lacked the moon tea or herbal remedies needed to prevent a pregnancy, or that they had finally decided to consummate their grief on said charred remains.

“Is she or the child in any danger?” Aegon asked, his hand sliding down her limp arm to grasp her hand, which she barely clasped back. “Because of our circumstances?” He meant her age, of course. It was a well-accepted fact that a woman’s first pregnancy was always the most dangerous, but on top of that, everyone from noble to smallfolk knew that the older the mother, the more risky the childbed. It was why many women stopped entirely after passing the age of three and six and why Visenya really should have been more careful, but she supposed it wasn’t a habit of hers since she had never really tried in earnest to become with child, despite her predictable moon blood. For a brief time, when Rhaenys and Aegon had struggled to conceive a child of their own, her siblings had suggested she be the one to carry their heir, but luckily, before that idea had gone too far, Rhaenys had become pregnant with Aenys and that was the end of that and the apparent need for Visenya to ever have a child of her own. Well, until Rhaenys died with only a single heir between the three of them.

“Queen Visenya is healthy, my lord,” the Grandmaester answered, speaking both to Aegon and Visenya, “but she will have to take precautions…” He began listing, in agonizing detail, all the things she could and could not do. Marital relations could continue until the end of her sixth month, not that she really wanted Aegon to touch her right now, let alone bed her, and she could continue to ride her dragon essentially until she gave birth as long as she felt well enough. Swordplay, however, was out of the question now, as was most vigorous physical training. The list went on and on and on and Visenya eventually tuned him out to better wrestle with her dread.

It was funny, she had heard that news of impending motherhood was always a joyful event, it certainly had been for her sister, who had essentially been bouncing with excitement until her morning sickness began in earnest and she began cursing Aegon and his cock for doing this for her. For Visenya, however, this news didn’t bring any joy. Only dread and cold, cold fear, which in itself was interesting because she had never really been scared of anything. Perhaps she would be happier if she liked children, but Visenya had never been fond of the little things, a defect many of her septas and even her own sister had never truly been able to understand or forgive her for. To her, they were less precious bundles of joy and more small, delicate, helpless things with the unnatural inclination to throw themselves of high places or put their fragile little lives in danger the second their parents’ vigilant eyes drifted away from them. This had always been her opinion, even as a child. She didn’t remember Aegon as a baby, probably a good thing since having seen him as a helpless blob of flesh would likely have made their marital bed even harder to stomach, but she did have the vaguest recollection of Rhaenys as a squalling infant and she had been utterly repulsed. She had the unfortunate feeling that her own child would elicit the same reaction from her, even if she knew she had eventually come to love Rhaenys once her sister stopped screaming and spewing fluids constantly and learned to walk, talk, and defecate in the privacy of her chamber pot. Perhaps, she could just leave her child with the royal nurses during that phase and take charge of it once it no longer was so much of a nuisance? She glanced up at Aegon and saw from the his pinched, but also excited expression, that he would never allow that. No, he would expect her to do as their sister had done, nurse the child herself, sing sweet songs from a long gone world, and be a fixture in its life. He had asked her to do so for Aenys after their sister died, and she imagined he would only expect more since this baby in her womb was technically fully hers.

“Do you have any questions, my queen?” Grandmaester Gawen asked, intruding upon her dark musings. Aegon’s indigo eyes turned to her face and she simply shook her head.

“No, but if any arise, I will not hesitate to ask you.” She responded softly, placing a hand on her still flat abdomen. The grandmaester bowed as Aegon dismissed him with a wave, his chain clinking as he quietly slipped out of Visenya’s chambers and out into the peaceful Aegonfort. The royal couple sat in silence for a minute before Aegon finally asked the question Visenya knew had been on his mind since she first began exhibiting the telltale signs of incoming motherhood.

“When?” He whispered, his indigo eyes gazing at her from under his crowned, fair hair. She sighed, pushing herself to a seated position as she rested her back against her sturdy headboard.

“Dorne, I’d imagine.” She responded, running a hand through her long, silver-gold hair, although it was admittedly more silver now. “We burnt that keep by the Greenblood River and then, well.” Well, they had landed and as the smoldering ruins of the keep had sent smoke into the sky above them, their lips had met in grief akin to passion and she had taken him on the ruins, riding him hard. She didn't bother to explain this to him though, since she highly doubted he'd forgotten _that particular moment, _especially given that it was not only a pleasurable encounter, but a painful one as well. She saw the realization hit him as she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Oh.” He responded, rubbing the back of his neck, possibly remembering how hard she had bit him there during this oh so important tryst.

“Oh indeed.” Visenya muttered and silence once again reigned. If she was superstitious, which she tried not to be despite her knowledge that magic was indeed very real and very dangerous, she would probably take the fact that her first, and likely only, child was conceived on the smoldering ruins of a destroyed keep stinking of death, as a bad omen. Although, she supposed, if she wanted a strong child who understood the true meaning of Fire and Blood, the sight of the dragon’s victory was hardly a poor spot. Really, she supposed one could read the omens however one saw fit and get hundreds of different answers. No wonder her mother had told her such speculation was best avoided.

“Are you happy about this?” Her brother-husband inquired gently, breaking the heavy silence and taking her calloused hand in his own. “I know motherhood was not something you looked forward to as a child.” Visenya swallowed as she met his sad eyes. She wanted to tell him the truth, of course. No, she was not happy about this, but she knew that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Unlike her, Aegon had always liked children, for some reason, and she knew he had wanted a rather large family. At least three children, he had always said. It was naturally expected that Rhaenys would bear the majority of those and if Visenya ever chose to, she could add her own blood to their brood. However, Aegon’s dreams for such a family had been shot down with Rhaenys and she knew his sorrow and grief had eaten his familial ambitions along with most of his heart. He had given into despair since the Dragon’s Wroth and hope had seemed a foreign thing in their marriage and in his heart. Now though, she could see in his eyes that hope, such a fickle thing, had seized his heart again, perhaps reigniting a fire their sister’s tragic demise had doused, and she couldn’t deny him this one consolation. She couldn’t really even deny it to herself.

“I’m not upset by it,” she finally told him, making her face earnest and open, an expression she knew made her look more like Rhaenys, “I am frightened though. This is a new type of battle for me and unfortunately, I don’t think it’s one I can win with Dark Sister.” Her brother smiled at her words and his happiness, a rare thing these days, did actually help her own fear dissipate a little, just a little. 

“You’re shaking,” Aegon whispered as he clasped both her hands in his, “and you’re cold.” She looked down at her pale hands in surprise. She hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh,” she murmured as he looked at her in concern, “I suppose I am.” Her brother husband gently released her hands and removed his Valyrian Steel circlet from his head, its rubies glinting as he set in down on the table beside her bed. She watched him with an arched eyebrow as he removed his boots and climbed onto the bed beside her, lifting the blankets to rest over them as he pulled her to his chest. She nestled against him comfortably, rejoicing in his warmth, but she had to admit, she was a little surprised by this. Aegon and her had never had the type of relationship where they just sat like this in each other’s company. Their relationship was more fiery than that, almost every encounter a battle of bodies or words. The only time they ever were soft like this was when they were both too tired to fight any longer. Rhaenys had been the sweetness that ensured this fire didn’t burn them both, but now that she was gone, well, Visenya had feared she and Aegon’s relationship would indeed burn, burn his heart and hers, and destroy whatever love, if you could call it that, that they shared. Not that she had much love left, she knew her sister had taken most of it to her grave.

“Do you think it’s a girl?” Her husband finally asked her as he absentmindedly began stroking her hair, something he usually couldn’t do when it was bound in rings and braids.

“I’m not sure.” She replied softly, “A girl would be nice, a sister for Aenys.” Aegon nodded, holding her ever so slightly tighter, like he was scared she might vanish.

“And if they were married there’d be no succession crises.” He murmured, causing Visenya to raise an eyebrow and look up at him wryly.

“Our child isn’t even born yet and you’re already planning their marriage?” She prodded playfully as he smirked back at her, ever so gently running his thumb along her cheekbone.

“And you’re not?” He asked as she took his hand in hers, enjoying how easily their fingers intertwined. Part of her wished it could always be like this, but another part rejected the idea. Such domesticity didn't suit her, and it didn't suit Aegon either, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself it did. However, every once in awhile, she supposed such sweetness could be palatable, perhaps even soothing. 

“You always used to say I should try to enjoy the present every once in awhile, I’m simply taking your advice.” She replied with a smile. “If it is a girl, though, I want to name her Rhaenys.” Aegon’s eyes immediately grew sad at her words and he brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles reverently, although she knew well he was using this action to hide his face for a moment.

“Of course,” he whispered in a slightly hoarse voice, “or perhaps Rhaesenya, after both of you?” She laughed at that, even as her heart clenched painfully as her sister’s pretty smile danced before her eyes.

“We can work on that, but if it’s a boy, I'd like Aegon.” She countered easily, meeting his indigo eyes with her violet ones. Aegon pursed his lips as he held her hand beside his bearded cheek.

“I’m not so sure about that one.” He muttered after a few heartbeats, “It seems a bit arrogant to name one’s child after yourself.” She removed her hand from his and lightly hit him on the chest.

“You already did so with Aenys.” Visenya reprimanded lightly. “And you're certainly arrogant enough to do it." Aegon huffed playfully at this, but the levity dancing in his eyes told her he was actually rather enjoying this.

"Yes, but I want our child to me named for you as well.” He countered, furrowing his brow, “Visenyon?” He prompted, causing her to laugh, “Visaegon?”

“Do you want our child to despise us?” She chuckled as his eyes danced with laughter. Aegon shook his head as he laughed in return, but suddenly, a strange change came over her husband’s face and he cupped her head in his hands, looking at her intently, eyes heavy with grief. This change was a common occurrence since their sister’s fall, but it still made her heart hurt every time she saw it. “Aegon, what’s wrong?” She whispered, covering his hand with her own and staring into his indigo eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too.” He murmured as a tear escaped his eyes. Visenya sighed and gently wiped away her younger brother's tear, cupping his face gently.

“That is out of our control, my love.” She gently told him, “But you need not worry about me, I don’t plan on dying in the childbed. If I die before my time, it’s with a sword in my hand and a dozen dead warriors at my feet and nothing less.” He swallowed thickly and leaned his forehead against her, staring into her eyes as if he was trying to imprint them in his memory.

“Do you promise, Senya?” Aegon asked, tone desperate and ever so vulnerable. Visenya knew well even if she did promise, it wouldn’t mean anything. After all, the gods cared not for the promises of men, and death would come for her no matter what she told him. However, as always, she was the elder and it was her job to comfort him, even if it meant making a promise she really couldn’t keep.

“I promise,” she whispered as he brought his lips to hers, “I promise.”


	9. Chapter 9

Of all the Aegonfort’s halls, gardens, and chambers, Rhaenys loved her sister’s rooms the best. She enjoyed her own, of course, delighted in the elegance of her furniture and took pride in the art she always chose so tastefully to adorn her walls, and Aegon’s, as disarrayed as he always kept his chambers, always made her feel warm and reminded her of happy times. However, only her sister’s ever made her feel completely safe and protected. Perhaps that was because Visenya’s rooms, and Visenya’s rooms alone, were the one place in this newly conquered empire that reminded Rhaenys of home. For despite being a Queen of Westeros, and delighting in that title far more than Rhaenys did, Visenya was not fond of the customs of their new land and in her dress, manner, and taste she remained strictly Valyrian. Her rooms were just like her chambers on Dragonstone, all dark, strong furniture engraved with symbols of her gods and walls adorned with swords and tapestries she had made specifically in the Valyrian style, dominated by a great bed swathed in a crimson canopy. It was well known that the servants found Visenya’s decorative style intimidating, something Rhaenys suspected her sister may have intended, and her rooms had inspired not shortage of whispers of witchery and a connection to the darks arts. Naturally, these rumors did hold a kernel of truth since Visenya was indeed a practitioner of ancient arts, but whether such practices were “dark” was really in the eye of the beholder, and Rhaenys knew the mystery that surrounded these chambers was part of the reason she knew they were so safe. No one would dare venture into her sister’s chambers to attack them for fear of the curses people whispered were laid across the threshold, and few thieves would risk incurring the wrath of the spells rumored to lurk in Visenya’s jewels. It was there, lying amongst Visenya’s silk sheets, bathed in red, that Rhaenys always knew she could find peace that would not be disturbed. Perhaps this expectation was why she was so surprised now to hear voices within when she reached out a hand to enter her sister’s chambers. At first, she thought her sister might be within speaking to someone, a rare occurrence since Visenya preferred to keep her chambers private and liked to conduct meetings in settings that gave her power, such as the throne room, small council chamber, or sometimes Aegon’s study. However, as she leaned closer to the door, she quickly realized that neither of the voices within were her sister’s and judging by the noises accompanying the murmurings, she assumed the voices were from two of her sister’s chamber maids. Rhaenys sighed, glancing towards the sunlight streaming through the window across the hall, and briefly considered entering the chambers and asking the maids to finish later so she could ruminate within and try to settle her mind on the matter of succession, or lack thereof given that there were no children to succeed them as of now, but she quickly decided against it. It would be rude of her to do so, both to her sister and the maids working within, but as she turned to leave, a phrase from within caught her attention,

“I wonder what it’s like to be her.” Rhaenys heard a voice whisper in her sister’s chambers, strangely clear despite how muffled the conversation had been just moments ago.

“What do you mean?” Another voice responded, slightly lower than the first, but definitely still feminine.

“I was just thinking about what it would be like to be Queen Visenya.” The first voice responded, its high nature hinting at either youth or slightness and causing Rhaenys to hesitate before the door, no longer sure that leaving was an option.

“I’m sure it’s perfectly lovely.” The lower, and Rhaenys assumed older, speaker replied as the low flap of something echoed behind the closed door. “She’s a queen, after all, how could it be any way else?”

“Well, she’s one of two…” The younger voice responded, although it was much softer now and Rhaenys realized she’d have to press her ear to the door to fully hear the conversation, an action which no doubt would look strange should anyone come around the corner of the hall and see her. It also reminded her too much of when she was a child, eagerly listening in on the secret conversations that occurred beneath her father’s nose, but given that two of her sister’s servants were apparently discussing her, she felt strangely obligated to hear out this conversation, feeling that, somehow, it was important, even if she wasn’t quite sure why. So, swallowing her pride, she leaned herself gently against the door and pressed her ear to its wooden surface in time to hear: “...second of the two in everything, but name-”

“Careful, Alenis!” The lower voice hissed, no doubt weary of the anger that would fall down on them should they be overheard, a possibility Rhaenys thought quite close to coming to pass as a spark of annoyance ignited in her chest at this woman’s comments about her sister. “The walls-”

“I know, the walls have ears,” the younger voice, apparently belonging to someone named Alenis, replied, sounding far from as scared as she really should be given Visenya’s reputation and Aegon’s habit of exacting vengeance on those who spoke against his loved ones. “But it is the truth. Everyone knows the king prefers Queen Rhaenys-”

“Get your head together!” the older voice reprimanded sharply again as Rhaenys narrowed her lavender eyes at the door, now understanding why her intuition had told her stay. Her siblings thought little of gossip, Aegon considered it a nuisance and Visenya deemed it best ignored, but Rhaenys knew better. Rumours, whispers, and gossip, as silly as they were, had power and could speak more about the mindset or attitude of people than almost anything else. A whisper could hint at the weakening power of a family, a rumour could foreshadow the rise of a new threat, and an apparently innocuous conversation could hint at a larger problem that might have to be dealt with. That being said, a part of Rhaenys deeply disliked what she was hearing and longed to put this girl in her place. “You know well those are only baseless rumors!”

“Are they really so baseless?” Alenis’ voice retorted, a low screech cutting through the tension building within the room as one of the women moved something, “Queen Rhaenys has new jewels practically every week. When was the last time our queen was given such a gift?” Rhaenys’ couldn't help, but arch an eyebrow as the “our queen” danced through the air, both intrigued and slightly appalled by the implications in that two word phrase. Technically, Visenya and her were everyone’s queens, equal in stature and authority, and she disliked the idea that these women seemed to think a subject belonged to one or the other, even if she wasn't completely surprised by that line of reasoning.

“Our lady has plenty of jewels already-”

“That’s not the point, Rosyn.” the girl retorted sharply, her slight tone of superiority making Rhaenys dislike her even more, “The point is the giving of the gift, the thoughtfulness that goes into it. The King does so for Queen Rhaenys, but he can’t seem to take the time for our queen...” Rhaenys couldn’t help but frown at this, allowing herself to lose the conversation for a second as her hand briefly drifted to her neck where a new necklace glinted prettily. She hadn’t really ever thought of it before, but the girl's words did make her wonder when was the last time Aegon gave her sister a gift. Surely, he must have given her something for her name day, but Rhaenys couldn’t seem to remember what it was, and she felt a pang of something cold and perhaps a little guild-ridden echo in her chest as she struggled to recall if he had bothered to give Visenya something for their wedding anniversary.

"Perhaps the queen doesn’t need or want gifts.” The older voice responded after a moment, dragging Rhaenys attention back to the room as a low thump emanated from somewhere inside, although the voice didn’t sound any more sure than Rhaenys felt.

“Again, not the point, but if you want another example, there’s always the nightly visits.” Alenis’ voice countered after a long minute.

“Why are you so obsessed-”

“Because, one night with our queen for every ten he spends with Queen Rhaenys!” The girl declared, making Rhaenys’ cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “I suppose that makes sense when you take into account the fact that he apparently married one for duty and another for desire, but doesn’t that make you feel bad for her? I can’t imagine being force to live in such a marriage, being constantly reminded that my husband loves another more and would not have married me at all if he didn’t have to.” Rhaenys’ heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears at these words as a mixture of anger, guilt, and resentment pumped it’s way through her veins. How dare this girl speak so cavalierly about Rhaenys and her siblings’ private business! How arrogant she was to speak about them like a master when her words reeked of ignorance! Almost on impulse, her hand went to the doorhandle, determined to rip it open and set this girl to rights. However, before she could, a strong hand grabbed her arm, holding it steady and preventing her from turning the handle to open the door. Rhaenys’ eyes went wide as she turned her head slightly and found her sister behind her, clearly having just returned from the yards since she was dressed in her training armor. Usually, Rhaenys appreciated her sister’s impeccable timing and her ability to seemingly appear at the most pivotal moments (or just for the greatest dramatic affect), but right now she found it incredibly frustrating. She stared imploringly into her sister’s violet eyes as she silently struggled against her sister's restricting grip, trying to convey to Visenya that they had to put this blabbering maid in her place, but to not avail.

“You assume our queen must be unhappy with her situation because you would be?” the older voice, Rosyn, responded coldly, oblivious to the struggle occurring right outside the door, “What makes you think you’re anything like our queen?”

“Well, she is a woman, isn’t she?” Alenis answered, sounding slightly meeker now as Visenya managed to wrestle Rhaenys’ hand away from the handle, leaving her no choice but to stand beside her and let this conversation run its course and making her curse her sister’s superior strength. “Don’t you think you’d dislike being in such a situation?”

“I would, but I am not our Queen, and she is not like us,” Roseyn replied, sounding about as fed up as Rhaenys felt, “I don’t know much about the Valyrians, but if rumor is to be believed and incestous polygamy is a part of their culture, then perhaps it is not as unfathomable or unlivable to Queen Visenya as it would be to those of us born and raised in Westeros. Personally, I think I'd struggle more with marrying my siblings than having to share my husband.”

“But-”

“As for your inappropriate statements about our rulers’ marital activities, I can’t speak to what arrangement they have, but I know full well our queen does not stay up late hoping her husband will come to call, so I'd say his perhaps unequal attentions are not as offensive to her as they are to you." Rosyn answered cooly as another low thud echoed from inside Visenya's chambers.

"Perhaps that's because she's given up on waiting for him-"

"Alenis, from what I’ve heard from Lady Kiera, our queen will go to her husband if she wants him and not wait around hoping he'll come to call, not that I take as unhealthy an interest in such things as you.” Rosyn continued, as Rhaenys sent Visenya a questioning glance, both surprised and intrigued by this revelation. Throughout all their years of marriage, Rhaenys had never sought Aegon, preferring the thrill of anticipation that waiting so often provided their couplings. In fact, she had never really considered making him wait for her instead, and she didn’t know whether that was because she had never needed to, or if she had unknowingly been prevented by some societal norm or expecatation she had absorbed in her youth.

“You can’t actually believe she’d be happy-”

“Honestly, Alenis, what business of mine is it if the Queen is happy in her marriage or not?” Rosyn shot back before the younger voice could even finish, which Rhaenys couldn’t help but appreciate. “Clearly, she’s content enough to stay in it and live in the same keep as her husband and his other wife, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut about such things!” Quiet fell over the room as this final statement rang in the air, much like the tense, tight feeling that follows a maelstrom, where no one is sure if the storm is really over or if the worst is yet to come. However, no further outbursts erupted from the room, and Visenya finally released Rhaenys’ arm and pushed open the door, striding in casually, no sign that she had heard any of the conversation that had just taken place evident on her pale, regal face.

“Your majesties!” the two maids cried, curtsying low with their heads bowed, both slightly red in the face, as if they knew that they had been caught. Rhaenys glared at the younger one as she strode past, noting her honey locks and sharp features so she would know her in the future.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your duties, Rosyn.” Visenya said, her voice steady and even despite what they had just heard, “but I have need of my chambers for a little while.”

“Of course, your majesty,” the older of the two, a dark haired woman in perhaps her second decade, replied respectfully. “We were almost done anyways. We’ll come back later-”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary since you’ve already done most of it.” Visenya assured, although why Visenya’s room would ever need to be cleaned was beyond Rhaenys. Her sister always kept her room as tidy and organized as her stratagems, and neither were ever disorderly. “Thank you.”

“Your majesty.” the two maids intoned, curtsying low once more before picking up their things and exiting the room as swiftly as possible, the door closing behind them with a resounding thud.

“You should have let me deal with them,” Rhaenys admonished, turning to glare at her sister with her fair arms crossed across her silk-covered chest as soon as she knew the maids were out of earshot. “That younger one deserved at least a reprimand for speaking of you so.”

“And what, dear sister, would that have accomplished?” Visenya replied cooly, sitting down before her vanity as she pulled off her armored greaves and began working on the straps of her chest plate.

“It would have proved to them that the rumours that ignorant child was spouting are false!” Rhaenys responded incredulously, amazed that her sister didn’t seem to comprehend the enormity of what they had just heard. “They were deriding you, Visenya! Questioning Aegon’s love for you, my love for you! And the fact that they were willing to do that, in your chambers no less, speaks volumes!” She shook her head, feeling her long hair rustle against her bare back as she turned to glare at the place the two maids had been standing. “They need to be taught a lesson in respect and falsehoods, especially ones that are so blatantly wrong, need to be disproven! Isn’t that what mother always said?”

“Yes, but the problem with gossip, as you well know, Rhae, is that giving it any response only provides it with more fuel and gives people more power of you.” Her sister answered with a smile, a pretty thing that helped soften the fine points of her beauty, as she extricated herself from her armor. “Even saying, “no, you’re wrong” let’s people know that you are paying attention to what they’re saying and signals that the words mean something to you and bother you enough that you feel the need to refute it.”

“But if they see that we stand with you-”

“It’ll make no difference,” Visenya interrupted, her voice calm, but firm as she sat down before her vanity in her plain white shirt and began undoing her long braids. “They’ll twist whatever you do and say I’m forcing you both to stand by me because I’m feeling insecure, which will only harm our position by making me look weak. I cannot allow that to happen.”

“Visenya-” “

No, Rhaenys,” Visenya cut in once more, her voice nearly shaking with intensity, “I would rather be slandered a thousand times then let those mongrels sense any weakness in me.”

“Allowing us to help wouldn’t be weak, Senya.” Rhaenys murmured softly, slowly approaching her sister, almost scared that if she moved too fast Visenya would bolt.

“Yes, it would,” her sister whispered, hands briefly losing their rhythm as she worked on freeing her, “I appreciate your kindness, sister, but engaging with gossip and rumours is a game you cannot win. The only thing you can do is not play.” Rhaenys sighed at her sister’s words, hating that she was probably right about something so wrong. However, she knew well that Visenya would not welcome her complaining about the unfairness of it all, so, for lack of other ways to comfort her sister, she began to help her undo the complicated braids she always wore while training, allowing herself to cool off as she unwound the silver-gold strands from their plaits and rings. They worked in silence for a few minutes, both lost in thought as they freed Visneya’s luxurious hair, the one feature of hers, aside from her height, Rhaenys had always envied, but as the rings fell away and her sister’s hair floated loose and lovely around her, Rhaenys’ couldn’t help but say,

“I hate how they talk about you,” her words seemed to echo around them, so loud after such a heavy silence, “and I hate how they talk about us. Why is it so hard for them to understand that love can look and be different?”

“Oh, come Rhae.” Visenya responded, taking the hand Rhaenys had rested on her shoulder in her own, her skin warm to the touch. “You’re the great culture expert among us, the one who strove so hard to learn about Westeros’ traditions and beliefs. You know well why they struggle to understand our marriage.” Rhaenys sighed, warmth spreading up her arm from where her fingers were intertwined with her sister’s.

“They are rather obsessed with monogamy, aren’t they.” Rhaenys mumbled, wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders and briefly burying her face in her neck, sighing as the sweet scent of incense and something sweet, and almost floral flooded her senses. No matter where they went, or how far from home they flew, Visenya was always a living reminder of home, their anchor that ensured they never forgot where they came from, and Rhaenys loved her for it. No matter what anyone said or thought, Visenya was an integral part of her marriage and she couldn’t imagine a world without her in it. In fact, she didn’t know if she’d be able to live if she lost either of them and damn anyone who thought otherwise. “But no matter what anyone says, I hope you never doubt how much we love you, Senya.”

“Don’t worry,” Visenya whispered, Squeezing Rhaenys’ arm comfortingly, which was ironic since Rhaenys was the one trying to comfort her, “I never will.” Rhaenys clutched her sister tighter and said no more, knowing well that it was best to let this matter rest, at least for now.

\------------

“Tell my husband I need to see him,” Rhaenys told the guard stationed outside the king’s study. “Now!” the guard paled slightly at her sharp tone, something most people would be surprised to hear coming from her given her reputation, and he rushed inside before she could say another word. If she were Visenya, no doubt she would have strode right in, even if the guard tried to stop her, but Rhaenys currently needed Aegon in a good mood, so it’d be best to cater to the expectations of his station.

“The king says you man go right in, my lady.” the guard told her as he popped out again, holding the door open for her as she sauntered in. In contrast to Visenya’s immaculately organized chambers, Aegon’s study was, putting it kindly, a complete mess. Papers were everywhere, piled on tables and desks, hanging out of books, and sometimes even scattered on the floor. The maps on the walls looked on the verge of falling down and she could hardly fathom how Aegon could find anything. Gods, she would have to drag Visneya in here to threaten him into organizing this disaster, although, that was a task she filed away for a later date.

“What an unexpected pleasure, Rhaenys.” Aegon declared with a smile, his indigo eyes glinting affectionately under his mane of silver gold hair, more gold than Visenya’s, but not quite as luscious, as she navigated her way through the maze of clutter to stand before his desk. “When the guard said my wife was here, I was certain it was Visenya and I genuinely considered trying to climb out the window rather than face her with this place being as messy as it is.” He joked with a smile, standing to lean over his desk and press a soft kiss to her outstretched hand.

“You definitely have a better chance of surviving the fall from that window than you do our sister’s displeasure.” Rhaenys murmured, smiling slightly as he drew her around the desk to sit in his lap. “So you should probably have someone organize this place for you before she comes to call.”

“You’re probably right,” he replied, leaning back in his chair as she settled in his lap, “but I doubt that’s why you’re here right now. ”

“It’s not,” Rhaenys informed him, turning her torso as she rested her hands on her husband’s broad shoulders so she could look straight into his face, “I came here today because have something important I need to discuss with you and I need you to take it seriously.”

“Ah, I see.” Aegon replied with a handsome, if slightly mirthful. smile, gently drawing a finger along her soft cheek, “is there a new dress you want, my love?”

“No, Aegon-”

“Ah, so is it jewels then?” he inquired with a teasing air, which she found somehow endearing despite her growing irritation.

“Aegon-”

“A palace?”

“Aegon!” she cried, her voice dripping with annoyance, which clearly surprised him since his face immediately lost its mirthful smile and was taken over by a look of perplexed interest. “You know well that when I say something is important, I don’t mean trinkets or gifts!” Gods, she hated how he coddled her sometimes, it was stifling and reeked of a lack of respect that his love barely managed to cover up. “It’s about Visenya.” Aegon’s brow immediately furrowed at her words, his face growing serious in a way it almost never did for her, another reminder that he would never have teased their sister so, and she disliked that he didn’t seem to hold her in as high a regard, although, once more, that was a problem for another time.

“What is it?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, “is she all right?”

“She’d say yes, but I’ll say no.” Rhaenys answered, lowering her voice as she glanced towards the door, knowing well how easy it was to eavesdrop through apparently solid wood.

“Well, what’s happened?” Aegon repeated, his face solemn strikingly handsome in its solemn focus.

“Have you heard what people are saying about her, and by extension, us recently?” Rhaenys inquired, which wasn’t exactly an answer to his question.

“It’s not the witch rumor again, is it?” Aegon asked, hands clasped under his chin as he looked up into her face. “Because we were actually discussing that one earlier and she thinks it could actually be used to our advantage-

“No, it’s not that one.” Rhaenys interrupted, hating that she had to specify which rumor about her sister was so concerning to her, “It’s not about Visenya’s connection to the Valyrian arts, but about her connection with us.” Aegon arched a quizzical brow at her vague words and she realized she was unintentionally skirting around it. It seemed she found it almost as hard to say what those maids had been blabbering about as it had been to hear. “I overheard a conversation today that basically claimed that Visenya was a duty your performed and that she was trapped in a loveless marriage with us.” Aegon clicked his teeth slightly angrily at this, but he, unfortunately, didn’t look particularly surprised.

“Well, such rumors have existed since all three of us were married, I supposed it was only a matter of time before they captured the minds of the rats that infest our new court.” Aegon responded resignedly, sighing as she lightly brushed strands of hair out of his face. “I assume you’ve already talked to our sister about this?”

“Of course-”

“And I assume she already told you not to do anything because it’d only make things worse?” He continued, placing a hand gently on her cheek.

“Yes, she did say that.” Rhaenys answered, refusing to yield despite what she knew was coming, “but we still should do something Aegon, it’s unfair-”

“Rhaenys, we can’t.” he told her, his voice kind as his thumb gently stroked her cheek, his indigo eyes heavy with anger and sadness, “I, and I’m sure our sister as well, appreciate your kind heart, but there is nothing to be done. I’ve already spoken to Visenya about this and she made it quite clear-”

“That she wanted you to do nothing and she said she was fine?” Rhaenys cut in, taking Aegon's hand from her cheek and clasping it in both of hers, shaking her head at him as he lightly nodded, “you know, for a man who grew up with her, you’re still so blind when it comes to reading between her words.” Rhaenys gently admonished, tracing the callouses Blackfyre had carved across her husband’s palm with her pointer finger, “Visenya has thick skin, and I love her for her strength, but sometimes, someone has to remind her that she doesn’t have to bare everything by herself and that just because she’s the oldest, doesn’t mean she always has to hide her pain from us, not if we can help her.”

“Rhaenys, there is nothing-”

“Yes there is! Stop thinking about this like a direct attack and start thinking of it like Visenya would!” Rhaenys interrupted, slightly tired of trying to push him towards what she needed him to do and more than a little irritated that he was using their sister as an excuse for his inaction. Gods, he was lucky she was around to spell everything out for him. “We can’t deal with gossip head on, I know, but we can help chip away at some of its foundations.” Aegon arched an eyebrow at her words, but he didn’t immediately veto her proposal, which was a sign this may not be as uphill a battle as she had feared.

“Interesting proposition, what do you have in mind?” he finally asked, meeting her lavender eyes with a look of keen interest.

“First off, would it really hurt to give Visenya a public gift every once in awhile?” Rhaenys asked, doing her best not to lecture him and accidentally sound ungrateful for all the gifts he’d given her. Aegon furrowed his brow at her words, glancing towards her neck where his newest gift to her dangled prettily, before meeting her gaze once more.

“But Visenya doesn’t like-”

“You don’t have to give her jewelry, brother!” Rhaenys cut back, shaking her head at him, finding Aegon’s ineptitude in this matter as endearing as it was annoying, “I know she prefers books and tomes and likes softer moments to occur in private, and that you both prefer it that way, but maybe give her a damned bejeweled dagger, or maybe a new circlet, something she could wear that people would immediately know was from you and will take as a sign of your affection.”

“Visenya knows I care about her without all that.” Aegon retorted softly, and Rhaenys had to admit that he was right about that. Visenya did know how much Rhaenys and Aegon loved her, but it really couldn’t hurt to publicly emphasis it, and Rhaenys was growing weary of his excuses.

“She does, but the world is a stupid place filled with fools incapable of accepting anything they cannot see with their own eyes. Give them a show for her sake, and ours.” Rhaenys responded gently, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb as she looked at him imploringly. “There is a danger here that people will think us unbalanced and rumours of favoritism could have negative consequences on our family for generations to come.” “I wouldn’t go that far-”

“Oh really?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at him as she let their hands fall into her lap, “Think about it, Aegon. Say both Visenya and I bare sons, which of our princes gets to inherit?”

“The oldest.” Aegon answered, although she could tell from his frown he was beginning to see the problem she was hinting at. Of course, whether that problem would arise was a question she had forgotten to consult Visenya about thanks to those maids and their gossip.

“Yes, but we both know there are arguments against that.” Rhaenys countered, reminded in this moment she was much better at playing the game of politics than her brother, “Visenya is your first wife, at least in name, does that not make her children greater than mine?” She stared knowingly at Aegon as he opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it, “and if I am, at least in the eyes of history, your favorite, does that not mean my children should inherit over the children of the less favored wife?”

“Both of those arguments are idiotic,” Aegon finally commented after a long moment, his voice slightly darker than it had been moments before, “but, I suppose, so are the people of this court who would pit our children against each other.”

“Indeed, which is why we need to destroy that illusion of favoritism, which brings me to my second suggestion: you two have to spend more time together, and I mean publicly.” Rhaenys instructed, frowning as Aegon groaned in dismay. Gods, she had forgotten that, of all her siblings, she was the only one who really enjoyed the role of Queen and all the attention it came with. Aegon enjoyed the power, Visenya delighted in the influence and freedom it gave her, but neither of them much enjoyed the other aspects of rulership, including living their lives as if they were performers on a stage.

“She’ll hate that.” Aegon complained, leaning his head back against the chair for a moment as his eyes drifted towards the ceiling, “I can already hear her now: We are not minstrels or mummers performing for their enjoyment.”

“How well you know your wife, Aegon,” Rhaenys told him, her voice slightly mocking, “but I’m glad you understand her temperament enough to know why you’ll need to get over your own pride so we can both convince her. It doesn’t have to be a huge affair, just go for a dragon ride together once a week , and at the next ball, ask her to dance first.”

“Oh, Orys will love that.” Aegon muttered, causing Rhaenys to thump in on the forehead. “Ow.”

“He’ll have to get over it. He may love her, but you’re her husband and she loves you best.” Rhaenys told him sternly, causing Aegon to blush lightly, which created a rather cute expression Rhaenys didn’t get to see very often. For all her charms and all her beauty, Rhaenys could never make Aegon blush like Visenya, but she found she was rather okay with that as long as she could make him smile like no one else. She pressed a light kiss to his lips as he frowned up at her, releasing his hand gently stroke along the line of his cheekbone. “Please, Aegon, do this for us. I know you hate parading, but you’ll get to do it with Visenya, if she doesn’t kill us for suggesting it, and you know that you’ll enjoy her company.” Aegon sighed as he briefly pressed his forehead against hers, making her sigh in contentment at the warmth.

"Fine, I suppose it can't hurt to try, but what about you?” Aegon asked after a moment, eyes opening to look at her with concern, “won’t you feel neglected?”

“Give me some credit, husband,” Rhaenys lightly admonished, flashing her trademark flirty smile at him, “I’m self-assured enough not to resent my siblings’ happiness and believe it or not, you’re not my whole world and I will be able to occupy my time without your constant attentions.”

“You wound my pride, my lady.” Aegon teased lightly.

“Well, someone other than our sister has to occasionally.” she responded, laughing as he pressed a kiss to her jaw, “only the gods know how big your ego would get even with her constant attempts to check it.”

“Oh, I’d be a monster for sure,” Aegon whispered against her skin as his eyes glanced up at her through his lashes, “Honestly, my love, what would we do without you?”

“Probably rip each other apart.” Rhaenys responded, half-joking, but unfortunately aware of some truth in her words. She knew well her lightness helped smooth the rough edges of both her siblings, ensuring their similar, but not always aligned, natures didn’t snag, crack, and break against each other. Even with all the love between them, she wasn’t sure they’d like each other very much if she wasn’t there to add some lightness to their passion, although, perhaps that was just her being prideful and a little self-aggrandizing.

“I guess we’ll have to keep you around then.” Aegon replied, his lips ghosting against hers as a smile played along his full lips.

“I do believe you agreed to do that when you both married me.” Rhaenys teased back, wrapping her arms around his neck as she lightly pecked the corner of his mouth, “And I agreed to stick around for awhile.”

“I think it was more like forever.” Aegon corrected gently.

“Well, I suppose the three of us are stuck together for forever then.” Rhaenys replied.

“I can’t imagine it any other way.” Her husband whispered, and, in truth, neither could Rhaenys.


	10. Chapter 10

The first time Aegon sees his older sister cry is when she is seven years old and he is just past six, on the day it’s announced that Aegon shall be Lord of Dragonstone and Blackfyre is his. This isn’t an unexpected announcement. Despite years of haggling between mother, grandfather, the Velaryons, and father, and arguments filled with Valyrian precedent over birth order and dragon claiming, they are not in Valyria and most people agree the free cities will never cower before a lady like they would before a lord. Perhaps a moot argument when a dragon is powerful no matter the gender of its rider, but the decision is made nevertheless and father declares Aegon's sister, despite being the elder and the first dragonrider, shall not be Lady of Dragonstone in her own right.

Visenya is incensed, Aegon is numb, and Rhaenys babbles at their mother’s side as their father’s words ring loud and clear. Aegon expects his sister to defy their father before the whole of Dragonstone, to their grandfather and demand he overrule his son, who she has already proved herself greater than by claiming a dragon as he never could. Instead, the impossible occurs and Aegon sees two clear beads form in the corners of her violet eyes before she storms off. Aegon runs after, as he always does, and she does not stop him as he follows her into her chambers and sits beside her on the bed. There is no doubting then, as he gently takes her hand, that she is crying and Aegon almost feels like the Dragonmount should erupt and send their home sinking into the sea. He had always thought such an occurrence more likely than his strong, warrior sister shedding a tear.

The first thing Aegon had learned from his sister was that she was older and therefore he had to listen to her, no matter that she was a girl and he a boy. The second, was that she didn’t cry. Such a fact was ludicrous, of course, because she had to have cried, mother had even assured him Visenya had sobbed as much as any baby, but Aegon had never seen it. Visenya crying was like the first children, people claimed to have seen them, but no one was quite sure if they actually existed. After all, Visenya didn’t cry when most girls would, nay, when most children would. She did not shed a tear when Orys forced her to the ground when dueling. No, she bared her teeth and threw mud in his face as she reached for her wooden training sword. She did not scream and sob when faced with the dragons, even the Black Dread. Instead, she had laughed and told her grandfather one of these would one day be hers. She didn’t even cry when she fell from climbing one of Dragonstone’s towers, something she hadn’t wanted to do save for Aegon’s insistence that she didn’t have to if she was scared, and twisted her ankle and near broke her neck. She simply frowned at it, as if this was somehow the joint’s sorry fault, and remained stoic and unreadable as their parents berated them as fools for an hour after. Yet, when their father makes it clear that Aegon is his heir and would one say rule as lord, Visenya cries.

It was not like how little Rhaenys cries, all red-face and snot-nosed, nor how Aegon himself sobs when the world gives him no choice, through gritted teeth and heavy breaths, but like how the Dragonmount constantly rumbles with its inner fire. Visenya shakes, her eyes grow red-rimmed and leak steady streams, and her breath rattles like the wind in her chest, but no sounds come out. No wails, no screams, just breaths, tears, and the occasional, pained gasp. Aegon thinks he would have preferred Rhaenys’ tantrums, at least the near three year old was purely human when she loses herself to fear, rage, or exhaustion, and easily soothed with sleep, a hug, or a bobble. Visenya is more like a stone and he doesn’t know how to make her stop. He tries sitting in silence, his small hand on hers as the news is announced throughout Dragonstone, something father no doubt does to ensure Grandfather cannot denounce his will without scandal, but that doesn’t make Visenya’s tears stop. He tries hugging her, but she is stiff in his grip and as responsive as a rock. So finally, he tries speaking, and reminds her of another fact they both know well.

“I’m sorry, Senya.” He tells her softly, pressing his shoulder against hers.

“It’s not your fault.” She whispers back, voice unsteady as tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s father who's robbing me, not you.”

“You’ll still be Lady of Dragonstone.” Aegon assures her, hand still clasping hers as she closed her eyes, which did little to stop the tears, “My Lady.”

“It’s not the same.” Visenya murmurs back, voice weak with grief. “Grandfather said-”

“Grandfather will hold no power once he’s gone and father never intended to follow his wishes.” Aegon replies gently, feeling strange having to be the sensible one for once.

“It’s stupid, I am more than good enough, even without the parts, to be Lord.” Visenya mutters, brushing away the tears as if they burn, “I was born first, I claimed my dragon first-”

“If it was by who was first, Orys would be lord anyhow.” Aegon counters, not to be cruel, but his sister’s clutching to vague hope is unnerving and very out of character. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Kill father.” She murmurs, he hopes in jest, but he’s not sure. A low knock at her door ensures he never has to ask if she’s serious or not, something he thinks is probably for the best. It opens with a low creak revealing mother, her face soft and comforting as she approaches them.

“My strong girl.” Mother whispers, kneeling before Visenya with both her fair hands on his sister’s arms. “This is hardly the end of the world.”

“It is for me.” Visenya murmurs, wiping her face again as mother sighs, smiling at Aegon with lilac eyes only Rhaenys had inherited. Aegon had gotten father’s indigo, something that made him look broodish and almost sad. Visenya had grandfather’s violet, but even that fire was doused under a child’s tears.

“Aegon, may I have some privacy to speak to your sister for a minute?” Mother asks, squeezing his hand to show she’s proud of him for comforting Visenya on what should be a happy day for him. Aegon nods and takes his leave, but he doesn’t walk very far.

Five minutes later, the door opens and Visenya walks out with mother in tow, her face like a stone wall. Aegon follows and is proud to stand by her side as she demands Dark Sister, Blackfyre’s sister sword and equal. There is no sign she ever cried when she takes the blade and holds in threateningly in their father's direction.

\-----------

Years pass before Aegon sees Visenya cry again, so many, in fact, he wonders if he had only dreamt of that hour in her room where tears ran down in her face and her body shook with silent sobs. It’s easy to believe when she openly decries crying a weakness when Cousin Aethan Velaryon dares her to shed a tear and prove herself a woman. It’s him left crying when she near blinds him with Dark Sister while Cousin Corlys looks on with a smirk. Yet, on their wedding night, when she is seventeen and him only a year younger, she cries, and not from happiness.

The ceremony had been performed in the ancient rites, for Visenya and Aegon, both dragonriders, are closer to Valyria than father, bound to earth, and mother, only half dragon, could ever be. Cloaks are exchanged, but so is blood, and they fly high above their domain for all to see on their fiery mounts. Aegon briefly thinks of Rhaenys, but his father’s eyes burn into his skull and he keeps his eyes solely on Visenya. When father is dead he will free Visenya from the idea that she must be the mother of his children and make an honest woman of their sister, but that day is not today and can wait when Visenya smiles from Vhagar’s back just for him. There is no trace of that smile later, when they’ve both been tossed into the wedding chamber, naked as the day they were born, and he looms above her, hard with desire, but wary of hurting her when she looks so damned grim. Warriors facing death, he thinks, would look less serious than his wife. However, she nods at him and gently strokes his face in encouragement and he enters her with a low moan that doesn’t conceal her gasp of pain.

Visenya is no innocent when it came pleasures of the flesh. They had played for awhile, in hidden glens and dark closets, and it was she who had claimed him first, pressing her lips to his the first time he managed to disarm her and hold Blackfyre to her throat, caring not for the danger of the steel so close to her jugular. After that, she always kissed him when he beat her, but despite that extra motivation, he could still only disarm her one out of every five duels, and even in those cases, there was a chance she'd still win. Yet, despite her always being the lead in their little courtship dance, they had not gone as far as to take her maidenhead and he feels something hot smear across his lower stomach and her thighs as something breaks within her, only being spread more as he moves, near lost to the pleasure, but not so far gone that he doesn’t feel the pain in how tight she clutches him. When he’s finished, she finally releases his neck enough for him to look into her face and he is almost aghast at the two pearly tears he sees glittering in her eyes, more worried by them than the blood that has stained the sheets beneath them.

“Visenya-”

“Don’t worry.” She murmurs as he brushes away the tears, too scared to move lest he hurt her more. “Mother said it would hurt.”

“You could have stopped me.” He told her, finally pulling out to lay beside her, intertwining their fingers in a way that felt much more natural than how their bodies had just met.

“Why? I needed the first done so I could be ready to enjoy the second.” She told him, even as another tear escaped her eye, which he quickly brushed away with his thumb as her nose caressed his. After that he might have cried a few tears before the night was through, but she certainly did not.

\----------------------

Visenya does not cry when their grandfather dies, and she most certainly does not waste tears when their father falls to some ailment or another only five years later, something that makes Aegon glad he never asked if she was serious about killing their father all those years ago. Most people, from servants to their cousins, expect her to at least look sad when Aegon announces his intention to marry Rhaenys, he supposes he would too if he didn’t know the whole plan had been her idea. Father could forbid it as Lord, that much Visenya had informed him was beyond even their power to challenge, but once Aegon called all Dragonstone his, he could use an ancient precedent she had found deep in the annals of their ancestors to marry Rhaenys, freeing her of the burden of baring heirs she did not wish to carry and being a mother when her character was build to be a general. Not that she couldn’t have done both, they agreed, but it’d be preferable if Rhaenys, who loves children and the idea of motherhood, handled that part of their marriage. So Visenya sheds not a tear on Rhaenys and Aegon’s wedding day and her smile and lack of anger is taken as a sign their marriage was one of duty, a duty both of them would be happy to discard. Ridiculous, of course, but people almost always are when it comes to something they can’t even begin to understand.

His older sister-wife does cry though when their mother is taken before her time.

Everyone from chamber-maid to lord caught the disease when their Velaryon cousins brought it with them on one of their visits. Aethan had coughed at dinner one night and soon enough they were all laid up in bed, shivering, coughing, and sometimes bleeding from the nose. Visenya catches it early and recovers quickly, quickly enough to keep Dragonstone from falling into chaos when Aegon becomes delirious with fever and near orders the flocks grazing on the Dragonmount, promised to the Velaryons for badly needed crops, slaughtered and fed to the dragons in retribution for infecting them all. The flocks are saved, the crops brought in, and Aegon is spared any admonishment until he is well enough to shudder from fear and shame under Rhaenys and Visenya’s purple eyes when they tell him how he had nearly doomed the island to starve. Mother, however, catches it late and it never leaves her.

Her coughs wrack her body, her skin burns with fever, and her nose bleeds grow increasingly worse as she becomes incomprehensible and delirious. Rhaenys cries many nights over their mother’s condition, although she is as stoic as a soldier before the Velaryons when they come to pay their respects, demanding ample compensation for what their cousins had cost them. Visenya, however, does not cry once as their mother fades. Instead, she rages, scours ancient texts for cures, banishes maesters that prove useless against the disease, and even sends Aegon packing from her chambers when he comes to call one night, telling him she is not the type to fuck away her grief. Yet, when their mother breaths her lasts, Visenya deflates and all that passion dissipates in a moment of stunned silence. She is quiet after that, stoic as they eulogize mother and raising her voice only to sing their mother a hymn from a long dead world as she is immortalized in dragonfire.

His wife rises on Vhagar afterwards with a fist of ash and vanishes. Aegon lets her go and ensures Rhaenys is well asleep before he calls Balerion and follows her to a small island. Vhagar sends him a knowing look as he lands and rushes through the dark grove to the pool at its center. His sister sits by the pool’s side, but it is not because of the cold that she is shaking. He sits down beside her as always, taking off his cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders before pulling her to him. She says no words, barely acknowledges that he’s even there, but she clutches him like she’d drown if he let her go. So he doesn’t. When the sun rises the next morning, her eyes are still rimmed with red and so are his, but they both stand and return to their dragons, knowing they have duties to perform and a conquest to plan back home. The cold wind is ample excuse for their red eyes and tear-stained cheeks when they land. The servants are gracious enough to accept them at their word.

\--------------

Visenya pretends not to cry over their sister when sweet Rhaenys is lost in Dorne to a bolt through Myraxes’ bright eye. Aegon knows she does it for him, because she is his only wife now and the comfort that Rhaenys so often provided now falls on her. He wishes she wouldn’t since it only makes him feel that much guiltier.

Her eyes are slightly pink when she rouses him from his inhumane scream of grief and loss, but she doesn’t shed a tear as she holds him on the ground, her warm body the only thing he can feel as part of his heart lays dead with Rhaenys. He knows Visenya thinks him asleep when her body finally begins to shake and he feels something wet against the ear pressed to her cheek. She always had been a silent crier, perhaps she thought thought it a sign of strength that she could hold the pain in, but he wishes to hell she’d scream right now so he could scream with her. She doesn’t though, she sobs silently as if not to wake him and he hates himself for letting her and pretending not to see the dark circles under her eyes when they finally stir.

He burns Dorne for Rhaenys, but also for Visenya and all the tears she forces herself hold in and spill only when out of sight, for Orys and the hand the Dornish took from him, and for himself and the damned guilt, loss, and grief this stinking desert kingdom had brought him. Ash and smoke, as it turns out, are also a good excuse for red eyes and wayward tears. Both he and Visenya employ it often during the Dragon's Wroth to come.

\-----------

Aegon agrees that it’s most understandable for Visenya to have cried on the birthing bed. Most people not fooling themselves agree that childbirth is a battlefield filled with pain like no other, and even the strongest of women can’t exactly be expected to take it without allowing a few tears to escape. However, her crying much harder once Maegor is safely in her arms with Aegon beside her is slightly more confounding. For a woman who would never have become a mother without a grief-filled, poorly thought out accident, she certainly seems to be happy to finally be one. Then again, for a man who never had expected to be a father again after Rhaenys falls in Dorne, he thinks overjoyed would be too small a word to describe what he’s feeling.

“He’s perfect.” Aegon murmurs as Maegor grabs hold of one of his fingers, his grip, amongst many other things, twice that of his older brother when he was a newborn.

“He’s more than perfect.” Visenya agrees between sniffles, tears running down her face as she gently runs a finger along their son’s plump cheek. He does her the courtesy of not pointing them out.

“You’re happy, right?” Aegon asks, taking her hand as he stares into her face, wondering if these tears are connected to the trepidation he had seen when the Maester confirmed she was with child. He had been ecstatic, but she had been more subdued, even if he had ignored her lies for both their benefit.

“Of course.” Visenya tells him as he wipes away her tears and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “How could I not be when Maegor is nothing less than a dragon prince?”

“I'm not sure.” Aegon whispers as they both stare down at their son. “But I know you're still scared." Another tear slides down her face.

"To my core.” She murmurs back.

Her tears dry by the next day, his do not for some time as he remembers Rhaenys with Aenys in everything they do with Maegor. He'd like to think perhaps Visenya's own tears were over the fact that Rhaenys couldn't be there to hold Maegor as Visenya had Aenys, but he isn't sure. They could just as well be from fear that the Dornish will seek to snugg out their precious son as they had Aegon and Visenya themselves.

Maegor, for his part, takes after his mother and cries only when taken from her.

\------------

Aegon is surprised when she cries upon his request for her to take Maegor and oversee the building of the Red Keep while he remains with Aenys on Dragonstone. Given how coldy, cordially, and stoically she had taken most of his orders, and less composed yells when they quarrel, he hadn’t expected not one, but two tears to escape her eyes. Those tears make him feel worse than anything she could ever have said.

“Don’t do that, Visneya.” He mutters tiredly, the crown heavy on his head as she quickly wipes them away. “We won’t be apart for all that long.”

“They’re not over you banishing me.” His wife responds, face pale with no sign of more tears following in their predecessors’ wake. “I cry for Maegor and the injustice you’re doing to our son.”

“Injustice?” Aegon asks, voice growing slightly tight. “A greater injustice, I think, would be separating him from his mother. Don’t forget your duty in your ambitions for your son.”

“As if I would forget my duty?!” Visenya asks, outraged. “Me?!” In truth, Aegon knows that was not something he could really ever accuse Visenya of. The ambitions, however, those he knows well. They had helped forge a continent, and if she had her way now, they’d make a king of her son. “You’ve been listening to those dogs you surround yourself with-”

“And you’ve been spreading that vile rumor about Aenys again.” He hisses back and he sees her narrow her eyes.

“I spread no rumours, husband.” She answers, a challenge and a threat. “I love our sister and I don’t speak ill of the dead.” A truth, but also not the truth, something Visenya is quite adept at speaking in these days. Perhaps she had never said them outright, but she had never denied them either as he had and her opinions of Aegon’s first born are not hard to see. He briefly considers telling her that speaking against the crown prince, or refusing to defend him against slander, is treason before swallowing his words. She would laugh if he accused her of treason, most people would. Visenya is many things, but treasonous is not one of them.

"I think,” He says after a moment where he pushes away his rage. “We need some time apart and I can only trust you to build the foundations of our dynasty.”

“I think,” Visenya cuts back, voice hard and eyes cold, “that you’re a coward running from that you don’t wish to hear and too weak to stand against the councilors whispering bile in your ears.” She bows low, a mockery if he’s ever seen one, and takes her leave. He almost fears she’ll do something drastic before she goes, like kill his new Hand and perhaps some of his council. Part of him even hopes she will, but she keeps her peace. Perhaps thinking or hoping she’d do otherwise speaks of how torn their relationship has become.

When she and Maegor depart the next day, her face is serene, even happy as Maegor secures himself on Vhagar behind her. There are no tears save the two she had accidentally let slip and he almost wonders if those were solely to hurt him. If it was anyone else, he'd suspect it, but Visenya never cried and he doubted she throw away her pride now just for some spiteful emotional manipulation.

\---------------

They reconcile. How can they not when Visenya is the Empire’s mother as much as she is Maegor’s and Aegon has never had to live a day without her? Yet, when his head splits and he falls, suddenly unable to move and dazed beyond words, he doesn’t exactly expect her to come, let alone cry. He doesn’t even know if she’ll get to him before he passes. He realizes it was silly of him to ever doubt her when he hears the hush fall across the room of Aenys and his grandchildren and feels a familiar hand take his. It’s calloused like his, given the same marks of affection by Dark Sister as Blackfyre had given him, and although he’s near half gone, he can’t leave just then. He really can’t without her say so. After all, he still remembers the first thing he learned and although a man past his prime, he is the younger and still, in some ways, must do as she says.

“Aegon.” Visenya whispers, voice soft, and when she presses his hand to her cheek, he’s shocked to feel it wet. She’s crying for him. For some reason that makes this all the more difficult.

He can’t speak. The world is far away and may as well be underwater, but he can still feel her and he doesn’t like that he’s made her cry. He doesn't want to leave knowing that's the last thing he did to her. He doesn't seem to have much say in the matter though so he squeezes her hand since it's all he can do now A question.

“I’m okay.” His sister-wife whispers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He squeezes again and drifts his hand towards where he thinks his family, their family, their dynasty is. Another question, one he needs to ask her, even if he thinks it's a little unfair. Actually, it's more of a request, really. “Yes, I’ll watch over them.” She tells him after a minute. He knew she would. Visenya has never shirked duty, even when in tears. A final squeeze as something wet slides down his own face, brushed away by her hand as her lips press to his forehead tenderly. A question and farewell. “You can go to her, I’ll be all right.” Visenya whispers, her voice only breaking a little. He tries to squeeze her hand again in thanks, but he can't quite manage it anymore.

Her hand stays on his nevertheless, his wife doesn't leave him even though he's leaving her. A drop hits his knuckles. He feels it running down his knuckles. It’s warm, but leaves a cold trail in its wake, just like the love he and Visenya always shared. It's funny, he always had to chase after her, it seems almost wrong she'll have to follow him this time. Then again, she had followed him and burnt a continent into submission at his side, he trusted she'd come when she was ready and not a second before. He almost smiled at the thought of the Stranger trying to take his wife before she decided it was her time. Her tear is lost somewhere in his sleeve and after its trail dries against his skin, he feels nothing at all.

\-----------

Visenya is crying. It’s a silly thing to do, really, a sign of weakness she has long abhorred, especially because everyone seemed to expect her to. Girls cried, it seemed, and Visenya, for better or worse, was born a girl. Her gender couldn’t be changed by all the training, studying, and refusal to shed a tear, no matter how hard she tried. Yet, even when it was all for not and Aegon got Dragonstone, until he finally ceded it to her years later, she still hates crying. Rhaenys can cry and she is lovely when she does so. It makes people sympathize with her, adds something people like to her sister’s character. Visenya can’t though, because she is the strong one. Most people view her with a certain level of disdain because she dares to wear armor and give orders like a man, orders that better be followed unless they'd like to reckon with Vhagar, but even he detractors see her as strong. Even those who whisper against her in the shadows acknowledge that she is a rock in a storm swept sea, unbreakable and unconquerable. It’s all she has when people give her siblings all the praise and adoration. Aegon for his bravery, Rhaenys for her beauty. With most else taken, Visenya has to make do with her strength and that means tears are her enemy and when crying can’t be helped she holds it in. She learned young how to stifle it, how to silence sobs and reduce the shuddering to a mere shake. She can’t break that habit now, even when Aegon lays dying. In fact, the very idea of being the wife crying over her husband’s body, wailing like banshee is too repulsive to even contemplate, but for once she doesn’t bother to hide the tears. She feels she’s earned a day to finally cry in the light of day as she flies on Vhagar for her seat.

Someone, gods know who when her nephew and his wife had spewed out so many children with silver-gold hair and purple eyes, but someone tells her Aegon’s had a stroke when she finally reaches his room. She’s almost tempted to cry more at that injustice than over the fact she’s losing him. Her brother-husband die of something so mundane? A travesty, but if it had been something else, perhaps he wouldn’t have lingered long enough for her to fly here to say goodbye. Another grandniece or nephew, it doesn’t matter who, mutters its a miracle he hadn’t departed on the spot and left her a corpse to bid farewell to. Naturally, they’re not so blunt, but Visenya sends them skittering with an arched eyebrow anyways because she knows it’s no miracle. Aegon may have lost his way, but he was her little brother before he was her husband and he knows he’s not allowed to go off and die until she gives him leave. He had listened to her less and less over the years, but their ancient rule still stood: she was older and her word was his law. Despite the venom between them, they still respected that when it came to something as important as _dying_.

She sits by his side with Maegor behind her, banishing Alyssa Velaryon with a glare, and takes his hand. It’s still warm, but that promises her nothing. He’s just waiting for her now, not planning to fight his damned body to stay. She feels a tear escape her eyes as she stares down at his face. His hair is pure silver now, as silver as her own, a color Rhaenys’ hair was never given the chance to become. His form never stooped, but it is hardly as large as it was in his prime, and his indigo eyes, her favorite thing about him, are closed and she doesn’t fool herself into thinking they’ll open again. He wasn’t the boy she had loved nor the man she had married. He was not the king she had screwed in the ashes of a burned keep and he was not the husband who had cried with her as they stared at their son for the first time. Yet, he was her brother and she had never imagined she’d be the last of them.

“Aegon.” She whispers, a question and a prayer, pressing his hand to her cheek. His hand stirs a little against her skin and she knows he’s felt her tears. She wonders if he finds it a comfort she’s crying for him, or a reprimand. Visenya supposes its both since she was supposed to die first and he's gone and taken that from her. All thoughts of that vanish when his hand squeezes hers. His grip had always been strong, sure, almost unbreakable unless it was her doing the breaking, but now it’s weak, weaker than Maegor’s had been when first born. She understands the question anyways. “I’m okay.” She whispers, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, salty with her tears, remembering how he had kissed hers the first time she returned from the building of the Red Keep, an olive branch that burned her skin. He squeezes again, his hand drifting in the direction of Aenys and his brood. Visenya takes a minute to answer, studying them. Aenys is weak, Alyssa grasping, the son, Aegon, is idealistic and Rhaena is proud. She shouldn’t have to look after them, Aegon shouldn’t ask her to, but Maegor’s hand on her shoulder give her the strength to say, “Yes, I’ll watch over them.” Her husband squeezes her hand a final time, stronger, but with a note of finality that makes another tear rush from her violet eye, just as one escapes from the fair net of his eyelashes. She sighs and wipes it away, caressing his face as she presses her lips to her husband’s forehead and clutches his hand tighter, remembering how small it had been when it held hers that terrible day father had taken Dragonstone from her. Part of her wants to grip it tight and hold him here forever, but she’s not weak enough to demand he stay. “You can go to her, I’ll be all right.” She tells him, and gods does it take all her strength not to cry out loud at those words.

His grip flickers around her hand and he almost seems to smile, then his weak grip loosens completely and she knows he’s gone. She had given him permission and he had chased after Rhaenys without a second thought, trusting that she’d follow once she finished the last thing he had asked of her. He always did trust her to play her part, even when it came to this and he had nothing but her word saying she'd protect Rhaenys' son. Perhaps he had always had a little too much faith in her. If she was any weaker, she would probably begrudge him that. Spite him for his presumption and keel over right there to run to the next world without a second thought. She could do it easily and everyone who loved her now waited there: her mother, grandfather, Rhaenys, and now Aegon. It’d be easier than looking after a fledgling dynasty whose second king was really only half-Targaryen at best. Maybe a little more if Rhaenys had been smart in her desperation to provide Aegon an heir. Gods, she shouldn’t have to, but stay Visenya would because she is not weak.

She presses a final kiss to Aegon’s cooling hand and wipes away her tears.

“Mother?” Maegor asks as she rises, violet eyes shining from a face built like Aegon’s.

“The King is dead.” Visenya declares, turning towards Aenys. “Long live the king.” Propriety dictated she should fall to her knees at this proclamation. If it was her own son, she probably would, but Aenys isn’t hers and until he proves himself worth Rhaenys’ sacrifice on his behalf, she would not bow to him.

Her sister’s son stares back in shock as his offspring and wife bow low before him and even Maegor takes a knee. Tears fill his lilac eyes and Visenya thinks she may have to kill him before this all was done. A horrible thought to be sure, but Visenya had never shrunk when it came to her duty to her family. Her father, her bitter, spiteful father, had died before she had to move against him. Cousin Aethan had been smart and dropped his suit for Rhaenys when Visenya had only held Dark Sister to his throat long enough to draw a little blood. Countless men had died at her hands for trying to deny her family their empire and many more likely would before she was through. She wouldn’t for any of them. Visenya only cried when something was worth it, and none of them were worth even one her tears.


End file.
